That scene flashed before
him.
There came an opposing thought. As Madame Chalice had said, either as
prince or barber, he was playing a terrible game. Why shouldn't he get
all he could out of it while it lasted--let the world break over him when
it must? Why should he stand in an orchard of ripe fruit, and refuse to
pick what lay luscious to his hand, what this stupid mealman below would
pick, and eat, and yawn over? There was the point. Wouldn't the girl
rather have him, Valmond, at any price, than the priest-blessed love of
Duclosse and his kind?
The thought possessed, devoured him for a moment. Then suddenly there
again rang in his ears the words which had haunted him all day:
"Holy bread, I take thee;
If I die suddenly,
Serve me as a sacrament."
They passed backwards and forwards in his mind for a little time with no
significance. Then they gave birth to another thought. Suppose he stayed;
suppose he took advantage of the love of this girl? He looked around the
little room, showing so peacefully in the moonlight--the religious
symbols, the purity, the cleanliness, the calm poverty.
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