The Mother Prioress wants me.
Good, now I am pricking myself on the tongue of my buckle.
Monsieur Madeleine, don't stir from here, and wait for me.
Something new has come up. If you are hungry, there is wine, bread and cheese."
And he hastened out of the hut, crying:
"Coming! coming!"
Jean Valjean watched him hurrying across the garden as fast as his crooked leg would permit, casting a sidelong glance by the way on his melon patch.
Less than ten minutes later, Father Fauchelevent, whose bell put the nuns in his road to flight, tapped gently at a door, and a gentle voice replied:
"Forever!
Forever!" that is to say:
"Enter."
The door was the one leading to the parlor reserved for seeing the gardener on business.
This parlor adjoined the chapter hall. The prioress, seated on the only chair in the parlor, was waiting for Fauchelevent.
BOOK EIGHTH.--CEMETERIES TAKE THAT WHICH IS COMMITTED THEM
CHAPTER II
FAUCHELEVENT IN THE PRESENCE OF A DIFFICULTY
It is the peculiarity of certain persons and certain professions, notably priests and nuns, to wear a grave and agitated air on critical occasions.