When the last post master heard the detail
of the two matches refusing to light he felt his hair begin to writhe
on his skull.
"Who invented such nonsense?" he said, in a strangled voice, when the
tale ended.
"The dead man himself."
This answer made Minoret tremble, for he himself had dreamed of the
doctor.
"God is very good, Monsieur l'abbe, to do miracles for me," he said,
danger inspiring him to make the sole jest of his life.
"All that God does is natural," replied the priest.
"Your phantoms don't frighten me," said the colossus, recovering his
coolness.
"I did not come to frighten you, for I shall never speak of this to
any one in the world," said the abbe. "You alone know the truth. The
matter is between you and God."
"Come now, Monsieur l'abbe, do you really think me capable of such a
horrible abuse of confidence?"
"I believe only in crimes which are confessed to me, and of which the
sinner repents," said the priest, in an apostolic tone.
"Crime?" cried Minoret.
"A crime frightful in its consequences."
"What consequences?"
"In the fact that it escapes human justice.
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