None seemed to notice this gross habit of mine. They showed me such
kindness and indulgence in the family that they seemed afraid to express
disapproval, however much I deserved it. Nevertheless, they were well
aware of my shameful passion for wine, and the abbe informed Edmee of
it. One evening at supper she looked at me fixedly several times and
with a strange expression. I stared at her in return, hoping that
she would say something to provoke me, but we got no further than an
exchange of malevolent glances. On leaving the table she whispered to me
very quickly, and in an imperious tone:
"Break yourself of this drinking, and pay attention to what the abbe has
to say to you."
This order and tone of authority, so far from filling me with hope,
seemed to me so revolting that all my timidity vanished in a moment. I
waited for the hour when she usually went up to her room and, going out
a little before her, took up my position on the stairs.
"Do you think," I said to her when she appeared, "that I am the dupe of
your lies, and that I have not seen perfectly, during the month I have
been here, without your speaking a word to me, that you are merely
fooling me, as if I were a booby? You lied to me and now you despise me
because I was honest enough to believe your word."
"Bernard," she said, in a cold tone, "this is neither the time nor the
place for an explanation.
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