listen to me! Out of all of this last yearâs reports I sent to the head of our Paris Province about my men at Louis le Grand, the Provincial singled out yours for particular attention and concern. That is not a compliment, should you be so foolish as to think so. He does think, as I doâmost of the timeâthat you have a promising future. He also thinksâas I know to my costâthat I allow you to overstep your bounds. He wants no more special privileges given to you. For the good of the Societyâs reputation and your future as a Jesuit. And for the good of mine as rector.â
âI see,â Charles said, chastened. âMay I speak further?â
âIf by âspeakâ you mean âargue,â the answer is no.â The rector sighed and rubbed his face. âBy our rules, you have the right to question an order, if you think obeying it would be an occasion for sin. About that, you may speak.â
âForgive me,
mon père
âand I do not ask your forgiveness as a matter of form. Of course you are not ordering me to sin. But if God has given me some degree of skill at helping to bring about justice, and I do not use that skill, is that not sin?â
âPerhaps. And so is clever theological argument to get what one wants.â
âTrue. But this killer has not only taken a life, he is responsible for what has happened to Père Dainville. And Père Dainville may die.â
âPère Dainville is old and fragile. What happened to him might well have happened anyway. What you want is vengeance,
maître
, and that belongs only to God.â
âI want justice,
mon père
.â
The gray gaze darkened. âYou want your own will. Is this how you would repay Père Dainville for his efforts to help you grow as a Jesuit? To help you grow in Jesuit obedience? To help you subdue your noble pride?â He smiled bleakly at Charlesâs sharp intake of breath. âOh, donât look so surprised,
maître
, it shows itself, believe me. Are you still so arrogant as to think that only
you
are capable of bringing about justice?â
Charles bit his tongue and forced his gaze to the floor. âI hope not,
mon père
.â
âThen remember what you have chosen. Remember what you hope to be.â
Charles held himself very still. That was the nearest thing to a threat heâd ever heard from Le Picart, and it was about the priesthood he so deeply wanted. âYes,
mon père
,â he said, to give himself time to think.
âVery well.â Le Picart strode to the office door. âWe understand each other,â he said, as he opened it. âAnd now we have both missed a good part of dinner. Come, weâll go and beg from the kitchen.â
Staying in the rectorâs presence after what had been said was not what Charles wanted, but he dutifully followed him out to the courtyard. As they turned toward the fathersâ court, Frère Martin hurried breathlessly from the street passage.
â
Mon père!
I thought you were at dinner. Thereâs a message for you!â
As Le Picart went to meet the porter, Charles waited where he was, but he could still hear what was said.
âItâs that girl from The Dog,â Martin said. âMarguerite? No. Rose, was it? I canâtââ
The rector said impatiently, âDo you mean Mademoiselle Rose Ebrard?â
âThatâs it!â Martin sighed with relief. âI
knew
it was a flower. The girl from the bookshop. Sheâs at the postern door, asking if you can see her at five oâclock instead of four.â
âTell her that will do. Get someone to bring her to my office when she arrives, and ask Père Montville to act as my companion while I see her.â
âYes,
mon père
.â Martin bowed and hurried back toward the postern and the girl with the flower name.
The rector came back to Charles and said, as they started walking
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