It did not occur to me at the time that I had promised to do
anything difficult; but the news which my agents brought me next
day--that the uppermost floor of the house in the Rue
Pourpointerie was empty--put another face upon the matter. The
landlord declared that he knew nothing of the tenant, who had
rented the rooms, ready furnished, by the week; and as I had not
seen the man's face, there remained only two sources whence I
could get the information I needed--the child, and the cure of
St. Marceau.
I did not know where to look for the former, however; and I had
to depend on the cure. But here I carne to an obstacle I might
easily have foreseen. I found him, though an honest man,
obdurate in upholding his priest's privileges; to all my
inquiries he replied that the matter touched the confessional,
and was within his vows; and that he neither could, nor dared--to
please anyone, or for any cause, however plausible--divulge the
slightest detail of the affair. I had him summoned to the
arsenal, and questioned him myself, and closely; but of all
armour that of the Roman priesthood is the most difficult to
penetrate, and I quickly gave up the attempt.
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