CHAPTER XLIIIAymery was still in a deep sleep when Marpasse returned to the priest’s house an hour before sunset, and found Grimbald baking cakes on the hearth. Marpasse might have laughed at his housewifeliness had she not been in a very earnest temper about Denise. So she drew a stool up and sat down as though to make sure that Grimbald did not burn the cakes which he had made while she was away.
“I have found her,” she said, and Grimbald had only to listen, for Marpasse’s generous impatience had ample inspiration.
“Never tell me women are not obstinate, Father, for I swear to you that Denise was born to make misery for herself. A Jew hunting for a farthing in the mud is not more careful than Denise to hunt out something to grieve over. I should like to cut the conscience out of her, a
