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"
Gaspard
Caderousse
,
"
rejoined
the
priest
.
"
Yes
--
Christian
and
surname
are
the
same
.
You
formerly
lived
,
I
believe
in
the
Allees
de
Meillan
,
on
the
fourth
floor
?
"
"
I
did
.
"
"
And
you
followed
the
business
of
a
tailor
?
"
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"
True
,
I
was
a
tailor
,
till
the
trade
fell
off
.
It
is
so
hot
at
Marseilles
,
that
really
I
believe
that
the
respectable
inhabitants
will
in
time
go
without
any
clothing
whatever
.
But
talking
of
heat
,
is
there
nothing
I
can
offer
you
by
way
of
refreshment
?
"
"
Yes
;
let
me
have
a
bottle
of
your
best
wine
,
and
then
,
with
your
permission
,
we
will
resume
our
conversation
from
where
we
left
off
.
"
"
As
you
please
,
sir
,
"
said
Caderousse
,
who
,
anxious
not
to
lose
the
present
opportunity
of
finding
a
customer
for
one
of
the
few
bottles
of
Cahors
still
remaining
in
his
possession
,
hastily
raised
a
trap-door
in
the
floor
of
the
apartment
they
were
in
,
which
served
both
as
parlor
and
kitchen
.
Upon
issuing
forth
from
his
subterranean
retreat
at
the
expiration
of
five
minutes
,
he
found
the
abbe
seated
upon
a
wooden
stool
,
leaning
his
elbow
on
a
table
,
while
Margotin
,
whose
animosity
seemed
appeased
by
the
unusual
command
of
the
traveller
for
refreshments
,
had
crept
up
to
him
,
and
had
established
himself
very
comfortably
between
his
knees
,
his
long
,
skinny
neck
resting
on
his
lap
,
while
his
dim
eye
was
fixed
earnestly
on
the
traveller
's
face
.
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"
Are
you
quite
alone
?
"
inquired
the
guest
,
as
Caderousse
placed
before
him
the
bottle
of
wine
and
a
glass
.
"
Quite
,
quite
alone
,
"
replied
the
man
--
"
or
,
at
least
,
practically
so
,
for
my
poor
wife
,
who
is
the
only
person
in
the
house
besides
myself
,
is
laid
up
with
illness
,
and
unable
to
render
me
the
least
assistance
,
poor
thing
!
"
"
You
are
married
,
then
?
"
said
the
priest
,
with
a
show
of
interest
,
glancing
round
as
he
spoke
at
the
scanty
furnishings
of
the
apartment
.