"Oh," said Newman, "we are even now, and we had better not open a new
account! You may bury me some day, but you shall never marry me. It's
too rough. I hope, at any rate," he added, "that there is nothing
incoherent in this--that I want to go next Sunday to the Carmelite
chapel in the Avenue de Messine. You know one of the Catholic
ministers--an abbe, is that it?--I have seen him here, you know; that
motherly old gentleman with the big waist-band. Please ask him if I need
a special leave to go in, and if I do, beg him to obtain it for me."
Mrs. Tristram gave expression to the liveliest joy. "I am so glad you
have asked me to do something!" she cried. "You shall get into the
chapel if the abbe is disfrocked for his share in it." And two days
afterwards she told him that it was all arranged; the abbe was enchanted
to serve him, and if he would present himself civilly at the convent
gate there would be no difficulty.
CHAPTER XXIV
Sunday was as yet two days off; but meanwhile, to beguile his
impatience, Newman took his way to the Avenue de Messine and got
what comfort he could in staring at the blank outer wall of Madame de
Cintre's present residence. The street in question, as some travelers
will remember, adjoins the Parc Monceau, which is one of the prettiest
corners of Paris.
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