There was a walk in Pere Jerome's little garden, of which we have not
spoken, off on the right side of the cottage, with his chamber window at
one end, a few old and twisted, but blossom-laden, crape-myrtles on
either hand, now and then a rose of some unpretending variety and some
bunches of rue, and at the other end a shrine, in whose blue niche stood
a small figure of Mary, with folded hands and uplifted eyes. No other
window looked down upon the spot, and its seclusion was often a great
comfort to Pere Jerome.
Up and down this path, but a few steps in its entire length, the priest
was walking, taking the air for a few moments after a prolonged sitting
in the confessional. Penitents had been numerous this afternoon. He was
thinking of Ursin. The officers of the Government had not found him, nor
had Pere Jerome seen him; yet he believed they had, in a certain
indirect way, devised a simple project by which they could at any time
"figs dad law," providing only that these Government officials would
give over their search; for, though he had not seen the fugitive, Madame
Delphine had seen him, and had been the vehicle of communication between
them.
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