Hanging from the rafters, moreover, were some
provisions, a salad basket full of eggs, and several bunches of big pink
onions.
"And, from what I see," resumed Pierre, with a slight shudder, "you have
thought that you might make use of the room?"
The curate was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Of course, that's it,"
said he. "What can one do? The house is so small, I have so little space.
And then you can't imagine how damp it is here; it is altogether
impossible to occupy the room. And so, /mon Dieu/, little by little all
this has accumulated here by itself, contrary to one's own desire."
"It has become a lumber-room," concluded Pierre.
"Oh no! hardly that. An unoccupied room, and yet in truth, if you insist
on it, it is a lumber-room!"
His uneasiness was increasing, mingled with a little shame. Doctor
Chassaigne remained silent and did not interfere; but he smiled, and was
visibly delighted at his companion's revolt against human ingratitude.
Pierre, unable to restrain himself, now continued: "You must excuse me,
Monsieur l'Abbe, if I insist.
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