A little priest came in, a man scarcely thirty years of age, but thin and debile of build, with a long, seared, saffron-coloured face.

For two years past attacks of fever, coming on every day at the same hour, had been consuming him.

Nevertheless, whenever he forgot to control the black eyes which lighted his yellow face, they shone out ardently with the glow of his fiery soul.

He bowed, and then in fluent French introduced himself in this simple fashion: "Don Vigilio, Monsieur l'Abbe, who is entirely at your service.

If you are willing, we will go down." Pierre immediately followed him, expressing his thanks, and Don Vigilio, relapsing into silence, answered his remarks with a smile.