ANGELOTA Story of the First Empire ByELEANOR C. PRICE _Author of"The Heiress of the Forest"_ NEW YORKThomas Y. Crowell & Co. PUBLISHERS _Copyright, 1902, by_ THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. [Illustration: "YOU FORGET YOURSELF--YOU ARE MAD, " SHE SAID HAUGHTILY. ] CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. In the Depths of Old France 1 II. How the Owls hooted in the Daytime 13 III. "Je suis le Général Bim-Bam-Boum!" 26 IV. How the Breakfast cooked for Those was eaten by These 41 V. How Angelot made an Enemy 59 VI. How La Belle Hélène took an Evening Walk 78 VII. The Sleep of Mademoiselle Moineau 95 VIII. How Monsieur Joseph met with Many Annoyances 112 IX. How Common Sense fought and triumphed 129 X. How Angelot refused what had not been offered 147 XI. How Monsieur Urbain smoked a Cigar 160 XII. How the Prefect's Dog snapped at the General 173 XIII. How Monsieur Simon showed himself a little too Clever 187 XIV. In which Three Words contain a Good Deal of Information 202 XV. How Henriette read History to Some Purpose 223 XVI. How Angelot played the Part of an Owl in an Ivy-bush 242 XVII. How Two Soldiers came Home from Spain 266 XVIII. How Captain Georges paid a Visit of Ceremony 285 XIX. The Treading of the Grapes 299 XX. How Angelot climbed a Tree 309 XXI. How Monsieur Joseph found himself Master of the Situation 324 XXII. The Lighted Windows of Lancilly 340 XXIII. A Dance with General Ratoneau 353 XXIV. How Monsieur de Sainfoy found a Way Out 369 XXV. How the Curé acted against his Conscience 385 XXVI. How Angelot kept his Tryst 398 XXVII. How Monsieur Joseph went out into the Dawn 416 XXVIII. How General Ratoneau met his Match 437 XXIX. The Disappointment of Monsieur Urbain 456 ANGELOT A Story of the First Empire CHAPTER I IN THE DEPTHS OF OLD FRANCE "Drink, Monsieur Angelot, " said the farmer. His wife had brought a bottle of the sparkling white wine of thecountry, and two tall old treasures of cut glass. The wine slipped outin a merry foam. Angelot lifted his glass with a smile and bow to themistress. "The best wine in the country, " he said as he set it down. The hard lines of her face, so dark, so worn with perpetual grief andtoil, softened suddenly as she looked at him, and the farmer from hissolemn height broke into a laugh. "Martin's wine, " he said. "That was before they took him, the last boy. But it is still rather new, Monsieur Angelot, though you are so amiable. Ah, but it is the last good wine I shall ever have here at LaJoubardière. I am growing old--see my white hair--I cannot work or makeother men work as the boys did. Our vintage used to be one of the sightsof the country--I needn't tell you, for you know--but now the vinesdon't get half the care and labour they did ten years ago; and they feelit, like children, they feel it. Still, there they remain, and give uswhat fruit they can--but the real children, Monsieur Angelot, theirlife-blood runs to waste in far-away lands. It does not enrich France. Ah, the vines of Spain will grow the better for it, perhaps--" "Hush, hush, master!" muttered the wife, for the old man was notlaughing now; his last words were half a sob, and tears ran suddenlydown. "I tell you always, " she said, "Martin will come back. The goodGod cannot let our five boys die, one after the other. Madame yourmother thinks so too, " she said, nodding at Angelot. "I spoke to hervery plainly. I said, '_They_ cannot be unjust--and surely, to take allthe five children of a poor little farmer, and to leave not one, noteven the youngest, to do the work of the farm--come, what sort ofjustice is that!' And she said: 'Listen, maîtresse: the good God willbring your Martin back to you. He cannot be unjust, as you say. If myAngelot had to go to the war--and I always fear it--I should expect himback as surely as I expect my husband back from Lancilly at thismoment. '" Angelot smiled at her. "Yes, yes, Martin will come back, " he said. Buthe shrugged his shoulders, for he could not himself see much comfort forthese poor people in his mother's argument. If you have lost four, it issurely more logical to expect to lose a fifth. His father, aphilosopher, would not have said so much as this to the Joubards, butwould have gone on another tack altogether. He would have pointed out tothem that the glory of France depended on their sons; that thisconscription, which seemed to them so cruel, which now, in 1811, wasbecoming really oppressive, was the means of making France, under herbrilliant leader, the most powerful and magnificent nation in the world. He would have waved the tricolour before those sad eyes, would havecounted over lists of victories; and so catching was his enthusiasm thatJoubard's back would have straightened under it, and he would have gonehome--it happened more than once--feeling like a hero and the father ofheroes. But the old fellow's sudden flame of faith in his landlord andNapoleon was not so lasting as his wife's faith in Madame and thejustice of God. Angelot wished the maîtresse good-day, left a brace of birds on thetable, and stepped out from the grimy darkness of the farm kitchen intothe dazzling sunshine of that September morning. The old white farm, with crumbling walls about it, remnants of attempts at fortificationlong ago, looked fairly prosperous in its untidiness. The fresh stacksof corn were golden still; poultry made a great clatter, a flock ofgeese on their way out charging at the two men as they left the house. An old peasant was hammering at barrels, in preparation for the vintage;a wild girl with a stick and a savage-looking brindled dog was startingoff to fetch the cows in from their morning graze. All the place was bathed in crystal air and golden light, fresh andlife-giving. It stood high on the edge of the moors, the ground fallingaway to the south and east into a wild yet fertile valley; vineyards, cornfields not long reaped, small woods, deep and narrow lanes, thentall hedges studded with trees, green rich meadows by the streams farbelow. On the slope, a mile or two away, there was a church spire with afew grey roofs near it, and the larger roofs, half-hidden by trees, ofthe old manor of La Marinière, Angelot's home. On the opposite slope ofthe valley, rising from the stream, another spire, another and largervillage; and above it, commanding the whole country side, with greattowers and shining roofs, solid lengths of wall gleaming in newlyrestored whiteness, lines of windows still gold in the morning sun, stood the old château of Lancilly, backed by the dark screen of forestthat came up close about it and in old days had surrounded italtogether. Twenty years of emptiness; twenty years, first of revolutionand emigration, then of efforts to restore an old family, which thepowerful aid of a faithful cousin and friend had made successful; andnow the Comte de Sainfoy and his family were at last able to live againat Lancilly in their old position, though there was much yet to be doneby way of restoration and buying back lost bits of property. But allthis could not be in better hands than those of Urbain de la Marinière, the cousin, the friend, somewhat despised among the old splendours of aformer régime, and thought the less of because of the opinions whichkept him safe and sound on French soil all through the Revolution, enabling him both to save Lancilly for its rightful owners, and to keepa place in the old and loved country for his own elder brother Joseph, afar more consistent Royalist than Hervé de Sainfoy with all his grandtraditions. For the favour of the Emperor had been made one great stepto the restoration of these noble emigrants. Therefore in this smallsquare of Angevin earth there were great divisions of opinion: butMonsieur Urbain, the unprejudiced, the lover of both liberty and ofglory, and of poetry and philosophy beyond either, who had passed onwith France herself from the Committee of Public Safety to theDirectory, and then into the arms of First Consul and Emperor--MonsieurUrbain, the cousin, the brother, whose wife was an ardent Royalist anddevout Catholic, whose young son was the favourite companion of hisuncle Joseph, a more than suspected Chouan--Monsieur Urbain, Angelot'sfather, was everybody's friend, everybody's protector, everybody'sadviser, and the one peacemaker among them all. And naturally, in such acase, Monsieur Urbain's hardest task was the management of his ownwife--but of this more hereafter. "Your father's work, Monsieur Angelot, " said old Joubard, pointingacross the valley to Lancilly, there in the blaze of the sun. Angelot lifted his sleepy eyelids, his long lashes like a girl's, andthe glance that shot from beneath them was half careless, half uneasy. "We have done without them pretty well for twenty years, " the farmerwent on, "but I suppose we must be glad to see them back. Is it truethat they are coming to-day?" "I believe so. " "Your uncle Joseph won't be glad to see them. The Emperor's people: theymay disturb certain quiet little games at Les Chouettes. " "That is my uncle's affair, Maître Joubard. " "I know. Well, a still tongue is best for me. Monsieur Urbain is a goodlandlord--and I've paid for my place in the Empire, _dame_, yes, fivetimes over. Yet, if I could choose my flag at this time of day, I shouldnot care for a variety of colours. Mind you, your father is a wise manand knows best, I dare say. I am only a poor peasant. But taking men andtheir opinions all round, Monsieur Angelot, and though some who thinkthemselves wise call him a fool, --with respect I say it, --your dearlittle uncle is the man for me. Yes--I would back Monsieur Josephagainst all his brother's wisdom and his cousin's fine airs, and I amsorry these Sainfoy people are coming back to trouble him and to spoilhis pretty little plots, which do no harm to any one. " Angelot laughed outright. "My uncle would not care to hear that, " hesaid. "Nevertheless, you may tell him old Joubard said it. And what's more, monsieur, your father thinks the same, or he would not let you live halfyour life at Les Chouettes. " "He has other things to think of. " "Ah, I know--and Madame your mother to reckon with. " "You are too clever, " said Angelot, laughing again. "Well, I must go, for my uncle is expecting me to breakfast. " "Ah! and he has other guests. I saw them riding over from the south, half an hour ago. " "You have a watch-tower here. You command the country. " "And my sight is a hawk's sight, " said the old man. "Good-day, dear boy. Give my duty to Monsieur Joseph. " Angelot started lightly on his way over the rough moorland road. Thehigh ridge of tableland extended far to the north; the _landes_, purpleand gold with the low heather and furze which covered them, unshelteredby any tree, except where crossed in even lines by pollard oaks ofimmense age, their great round heads so thick with leaves that a manmight well hide in them. These _truisses_, cut every few years, werethe peasants' store of firewood. Their long processions gave a curiouslook of human life to the lonely moor, only inhabited by game, of whichAngelot saw plenty. But he did not shoot, his game-bag being alreadystuffed with birds, but marched along with gun on shoulder and dog atheel over the yellow sandy track, loudly whistling a country tune. Therewas not a lighter heart than Angelot's in all his native province, nor ahandsomer face. He only wanted height to be a splendid fellow. Hisdaring mouth and chin seemed to contradict the lazy softness of his darkeyes. With a clear, brown skin and straight figure, and dressed in brownlinen and heavy shooting boots, he was the picture of a healthysportsman. A walk of a mile or two across the _landes_ brought him into a greenlane with tall wild hedges, full of enormous blackberries, behind whichwere the vineyards, rather weedy as to soil, but loaded with the smallblack and white grapes which made the good pure wine of the country. Angelot turned in and looked at the grapes and ate a few; this was oneof his father's vineyards. The yellow grapes tasted of sunshine and thesouth. Angelot went on eating them all the way down the lane; he wasthirsty, in spite of Joubard's sparkling wine, after tramping with dogand gun since six o'clock in the morning. The green lane led to another, very steep, rough, and stony. Corners of red and white rock stood outin it; such a surface would have jolted a strong cart to pieces, but LesChouettes had no better approach on this side. "I want no fine ladies to visit me, " Monsieur Joseph would say, with hissweet smile. "My friends will travel over any road. " Down plunged the lane, with a thick low wood on one side and a slopingstubble field edged by woods on the other; here again stood a row of oldpollard oaks, like giant guards of the solitude. Then the deep barkingof many dogs, Monsieur Joseph's real protectors, and a group of Spanishchestnuts sending their branches over the road, announced the strangehermitage that its master called by the fanciful name of Les Chouettes. There had indeed been a time, not long before, when owls had been itschief inhabitants. Now, if report was to be believed, night-birds of adifferent species were apt to congregate there. The lane opened suddenly on Monsieur Joseph's out-buildings, with nogates or barriers, things unknown in Anjou. Tall oaks and birches, delicate and grey, leaned across the cream-coloured walls and the highgrey stone roofs where orange moss grew thickly. Low arched doorwayswith a sandy court between them led into the kitchen on one side, thestables on the other. Beyond these again, in the broad still sunshine, standing squarely alone in a broad space of yellow sand, was MonsieurJoseph's house, not very old, for the kitchens and stables had belongedto a little château long since pulled down. It also was built ofcream-coloured stone, with a little tower to the west of it, withplayful ironwork and high mansard windows. An odd feature was that ithad no actual door. All the lower windows opened down to the ground, with nothing but a stone step between them and the sandy soil, so thatthe house could be entered or left at any point, through any room. Two rough roads or country tracks, continuing the lane, passed the houseto the north and south, the northern road wandering away westward undera wild avenue of old oaks on the edge of a wood into high fields beyond, the southern crossing broad green slopes that descended gradually intothe valley towards Lancilly, past low copses and brimming streams, leaving to the east the high moors and La Marinière with its smallvillage and spire. Thus Les Chouettes had a view of its own to the west and south, butcould be seen far off from the south only; woods covering the upperslope against the sunset. Woods and high land sheltered it again fromthe north and east, and the only roads near it were little better thancart-tracks. There were long hours at Les Chouettes when no sound was to be heard butthe hooting of owls or screaming of curlews or the odd little squeak ofthe squirrels as they darted up and down and about the oak trees. "He mews like a cat, the little _fouquet_, " Monsieur Joseph used to say;and passionate sportsman as he was, he would never shoot the squirrelsor allow them to be shot by his man, who lamented loudly. Angelot hadcaught his uncle's liking for that swift red spirit of the woods, and sothe squirrels had a fine time all over the lands of La Marinière. Evidently there was a good deal going on at Les Chouettes, when Angelotcame down from the moors that morning. He was not surprised, after oldJoubard's report, to see his uncle's outdoor factotum, a bullet-headedcreature with scarcely anything on but his shirt, leading the last ofseveral horses into the shadowy depths of the stable. Opposite, the cooklooked out smiling from the kitchen, where she lived with her solemnhusband, the valet-de-chambre. He, in apron and sabots, was now in theact of carrying the first dishes across to the dining-room window. "Just in time, Monsieur Angelot!" cried the cook. Four large black dogs came barking and leaping to meet the young man andhis dog, an intimate friend of theirs. Then a small slender figure, witha cropped head and a clinging dark blue frock, flashed across from thewood, ordered the dogs back in a voice that they obeyed, and clinging toAngelot's arm, led him on towards the corner of the house. "Ah, my Ange! I began to think you were not coming, " she said. "Thereare four of them in the salon with papa, and I was afraid to go in tillyou came. " "What! Mademoiselle Riette afraid of anything on earth--and especiallyof four old gentlemen!" "They are not very old, and they look so fierce and secret this morning. But come, come, you must put down your game-bag and wash your hands, andthen we will go in together. " CHAPTER II HOW THE OWLS HOOTED IN THE DAYTIME The sun poured into the little salon, all polished wood and gay-colouredchintz, where Monsieur Joseph de la Marinière and his four friends weretalking at the top of their voices. The four guests sat in more or less tired attitudes round the room; thehost stood poised on the hearth-rug, a dark, dandy little gentleman witha brilliant smile. He had a way of balancing himself on one foot andslightly extending both arms, as if he were going to fly off into space. This, and his gentle, attractive manner, sometimes touched withmelancholy, gave him a sort of angelic, spiritual air. It was difficultto imagine him either a soldier or a conspirator, yet he had been oneand was still the other. More than once, only a politic indulgence notoften extended by Napoleon's administrators, and the distinguishedmerits of his younger brother, had saved Monsieur Joseph from sharingthe fate of some of his friends at Joux, Ham, or Vincennes. These fortress prisons held even now many men of good family whom onlythe Restoration was to set free. They, as well as plenty of inferiorprisoners, owed their captivity in most cases to a secret meetingbetrayed, a store of arms discovered, a discontented letter opened, oreven to an expression of opinion, such as that France had been betteroff under the Bourbons. Napoleon kept France down with an iron hand, while the young men and lads in hundreds of thousands shed their bloodfor him, the women wept, and the old men sometimes raged: but yet Franceas a whole submitted. The memory of the Terror made this milder tyrannybearable. And genius commands, as long as it is victorious, and tillthis year of the Spanish war, there had been no check to Napoleon. Hehad not yet set out to extinguish the flame of his glory in Russiansnows. The police all over France obeyed his orders only too well--"_Surveilleztout le monde, excepté moi!_" To a great degree it was necessary, forFrench society, high and low, was honeycombed with Royalist plots, someof them hardly worthy of a cause which called itself religious as wellas royal. Leaders like Cadoudal and Frotté were long dead; some of theirsuccessors in conspiracy were heroes rather of scandal than of loyalty, and many a tragic legend lingers in French society concerning the menand women of those days. To a great extent, the old families of La Vendée, the LaRochejacqueleins at their head, refrained from mixing themselves up inthe smaller plots against the Empire in which hundreds of Chouans, noble and peasant, men and women, were constantly involved during theseyears with probable loss of life and liberty. It was not till later thatthe general feeling became intensified so that Napoleon had to weakenhis army, in the Waterloo campaign, by sending some thousands of menagainst a new insurrection in the West, under Louis de laRochejaquelein, a second La Vendée war, only stopped by the final returnof the Bourbons. Monsieur Joseph's gay little room looked like anything but a haunt ofconspirators; but his friends were earnestly discussing with him thepossibility of raising the country, arming the peasants, marching on thechief town of the department, capturing the Prefect, as well as theGeneral in command of the division, and holding them as hostages whilethe insurrection went on spreading through Anjou and the neighbouringprovinces. The most eager, the most original of the plotters was the Baron d'Ombré, a dark, square young man with frowning brows. He turned quite fiercelyon a milder-looking person, a Monsieur de Bourmont, a distant cousin ofthe well-known leader of that name, who doubted whether the peasantswould rise as readily as César d'Ombré expected. "I tell you, " he said, "they hate, they detest the Empire. Look at theirdesolate homes, their deserted fields! I tell you, the women of Francealone, if they had a leader, would drive the usurper out of thecountry. " "There is your mission, then, dear César, " said the Vicomte des Barres, a delicate, sarcastic-looking man of middle age. "March on Paris withyour phalanx of Amazons. " "César is right, nevertheless, gentlemen, " growled the Comte d'Ombré, the young man's father, the oldest of the party. "It is energy, it iscourage, that our cause wants. And I go farther than my son goes. Takethe Prefect and the General by all means--excellent idea--" "If you can catch them--" murmured Monsieur des Barres, and was frownedupon furiously by César d'Ombré. The Comte was rather deaf. "What? What?" he asked sharply, being awareof the interruption. "Nothing, monsieur, nothing!" cried their host, with one spring from thefireplace to the old man's chair--"and what would you do, monsieur, withthe Prefect and the General? I am dying of curiosity. " Monsieur d'Ombré stared up into the sweet, birdlike face, which bentover him with flashing eyes and a delighted smile. "Do? I should shoot them on the spot, " he said. "They are traitors: Iwould treat all traitors the same. Yes, I know the Prefect is a friendof your brother's--of your own, possibly. I know my son and I are yourguests, too. Never mind! Any other conduct would be cowardly andabominable. No member of my family would ever be guilty of opportunism, and remain in my family. Those two men have done more harm in thisprovince than Napoleon Buonaparte and all his laws and police. Theynever tried to make his government popular. The Prefect, at least, hasdone this--I know nothing about the General. " "A wooden image of his master, " said Monsieur des Barres. Monsieur Joseph returned, rather sobered, to his hearth rug. "Shootthem, well, well!" he muttered. "A strong measure, but possibly politic. It is what one would _like_ to do, of course, officially. Notpersonally--no--though Monsieur d'Ombré may be right. It is a crime, nodoubt, to make the Empire popular. I am afraid my poor brother has triedto do the same, and succeeded--yes, succeeded a little. " "My father is quite wrong, " César d'Ombré muttered in the ear ofMonsieur de Bourmont, who listened with a superior smile. "Such madviolence would ruin the cause altogether. Now as hostages, those two menwould be invaluable. " "Time enough to discuss that when you have got them, " said Monsieur deBourmont. "To me, I must confess, this plan of a rising sounds prematureand unpractical. What we want first is money--money from England, andstronger support, too--as well as a healthier public opinion all throughthis part of the country. " "Ah! but none of your waiting games for me, " cried the young Baron. "_'De l'audace'_--you know--that is the motto for Frenchmen. " "Boldness and rashness need not be the same thing, " said Monsieur deBourmont, drily. "And remember whom you are quoting, my dear César. Adangerous person, to say the least. " A grim smile lightened d'Ombré's hard face. "It was the right thing tosay, if the devil said it, " he answered. The Vicomte des Barres rose from his chair and lounged into the middleof the room. "To be practical, friends, " he said, "the feeling among the peasants isthe question. In this country side, Monsieur de la Marinière ought toknow pretty well what it is. And I fear he will tell us that a good dealof exertion will be necessary, before they will take up their guns andpikes, and march where they are led. It goes without saying that he, himself, is the one man to lead them. I believe, though he chooses tolive like a hermit, he is the most popular man in Anjou. " "But no--no, dear Vicomte, " said Monsieur Joseph, shaking his headviolently. "It is true there are some of them who love me--but theirinterest, you see, is on the other side. My brother is more popular thanI am, and he deserves it, in spite of his lamentable opinions. " "Ah, monsieur, forgive me, but do you understand your peasants?" criedCésar d'Ombré. "Are you doing them justice? Would they set a good farmagainst their king, their religion, the salvation of their country?Bleeding from the loss of their sons--will they think more of money andcorn-stacks and vintages than of that true peace and freedom which canonly be won by driving out tyranny? Nobody wants to put them back asthey were before 1789. The feudal ages are gone--we have given up ourrights, and there is an end of it--but we want our own kings again, andwe want peace for France, and time to breathe and to let her woundsheal. We want to be rid of this accursed usurper who is draining herlife blood. That, I say, is what the peasants feel, most of them, asstrongly as we do. But they are of course uneducated. They need stirringup, drilling, leading. And I can hardly believe, monsieur, that theweight of one man in the other scale--even of your learned anddistinguished brother--would outweigh all the claims of faith andaffection and loyalty. No--delay and hesitation are useless. Trust thepeasants, I say. " "You may be right--I hope you are--" said Monsieur Joseph, more gravelythan usual. "But my brother will not now be alone in the left-handscale. Lancilly, under his care, has given the people work and wages foryears, remember. And now, with Hervé de Sainfoy's return--" A howl from César d'Ombré, a groan from his father, a grimace of disgustfrom Monsieur de Bourmont, who had reason, for his own cousin, once aChouan, was now an Imperial officer--a laugh from Monsieur des Barres;all this greeted the name of the owner of Lancilly. "Although that renegade is your cousin, monsieur, " old d'Ombré growled, "I hope the country side may soon be made too hot to hold him. " Monsieur Joseph shrugged his shoulders, smiled, looked on the floor. Hedid not take up the old man's words; he could not very well have doneso. But there was something about him which reminded his guests that theslender little boyish man was a dead shot and a perfect swordsman, andthat once, long ago, in old La Vendée days, he had challenged a man whohad said something insulting of his brother Urbain, and after one or twoswift passes had laid him dead at his feet. There was a moment of rather awkward silence. Then Monsieur des Barrestook up the word again. "To be practical, my friends, " he repeated, "the first step to action, it seems to me, is to sound and encourage the peasants. Each of us mustbe responsible for his own neighbourhood. " "We will answer for ours, " said César d'Ombré. Monsieur de Bourmont, the most cautious of the party, murmured somethingto the same effect, and Monsieur Joseph nodded gravely. The Vicomte's eyes dwelt on him, a little anxiously. It seemed as ifthat word "renegade, " applied to his cousin and neighbour, might have atendency to stick in his throat. Des Barres, who admired and loved thelittle gentleman, was sorry. He wanted to remind him how the old Comted'Ombré was universally known for bad manners, stupidity, and violence. He would have liked to reason with him, too, on the subject of thatcousin, and to point out kindly, as a friend, how Monsieur de Sainfoyhad had absolutely no real and good excuse for going over to theEmperor. Nothing but ambition and worldiness could have led him into thecourse he had taken. Urbain de la Marinière, known even before 1789 as aphilosophical Republican, held a very different place in the estimationof honest men. "That farmer on the _landes_"--said the Vicomte, looking at his host--"agood example of a superior peasant, is he not? We passed near his farmthis morning. What line does he take?" "Joubard? He is a fine old fellow, that. His fifth son was taken by theconscription a year ago. Four are dead. I think his heart is in theright place. But he is my brother's best tenant. Yes--I don't know. OldJoubard is made of good stuff, and he loves me. " "And probably he loved his sons, and their mother loved them too, " saidCésar d'Ombré. "Here are my children, " said Monsieur Joseph, looking out of the window. "Breakfast will be ready immediately. With your leave we will finishour discussion afterwards. " All the faces lightened, except that of the Baron d'Ombré, whose soulwas too much in earnest to be glad of a bodily interruption. But theride had been long, over difficult roads and under a hot sun, andbreakfast was later than usual. The three elder conspirators were notsorry to lay aside their plotting for an hour, and they knew byexperience that Monsieur Joseph's cook was an artist. On an occasionsuch as this, dishes of the rarest distinction crossed the sandy courtfrom that quaint high-roofed kitchen. The children, as Monsieur Joseph called them, came to the glass door andopened it gently. They were Angelot and Henriette, first cousins, andalike enough to be brother and sister, in spite of the ten years betweenthem. The girl, with her fearless eyes, walked first; it seemed natural toher. All the men rose and bowed as she came in. She made a formalcurtsey to each one separately, and smiled when Monsieur des Barres, theman of the world, bent gracefully to kiss her hand as if she had been agrown-up woman. "Good morning, my dear uncle, " said Angelot, and kissed Monsieur Josephon both cheeks; then bowed deeply to the company. They looked upon him with not altogether friendly eyes; the Comted'Ombré even muttered something between his teeth, and hardly returnedthe young fellow's salutation. The son of Urbain de la Marinière, anotorious example of two odious things, republicanism and opportunism!the mutual affection of him and his uncle Joseph only made him more of apossible danger. To Monsieur d'Ombré Angelot seemed like a spy in thecamp. His son, however, knew better, and so did the other two. Angelot'sparentage was not in his favour, certainly, but they tried to take himat his uncle's valuation, and that was a high one. And Monsieur Joseph'sjudgment, though romantic, was seldom wrong. Gigot, the dark-faced valet, having kicked off the sabots which coveredhis felt shoes, but still wearing his large apron, set open the doorinto the long narrow hall which ran through the back of the house, widening in the middle where the tower and staircase branched from it. "Monsieur est servi!" The hungry guests marched willingly to the dining-room, their heavyboots creaking, the noise of tread and voices echoing through the bareboarded house. "You do not join us, mademoiselle?" said Monsieur des Barres, seeingthat Henriette lingered behind in the drawing-room. "No, monsieur, " the child answered. "My father thinks I am too young tolisten. Besides, I am the _guetteuse_. It is our business to watch--thedogs and I. " "Indeed! Is that how you spend your life? A curious employment for ayoung lady!" "When there is danger abroad, I am more to be trusted than any oneelse. " "I quite believe it. You know, then, that our visit to-day is notentirely one of pleasure? Monsieur your father has taken you so far intohis confidence, though you are too young to listen?" "I know everything, monsieur, " said Henriette. "Then we may eat in peace. We are safe in your care. That is charming, mademoiselle. " "Yes, monsieur. I will let you know at once, if Monsieur le Préfet andhis gendarmes are riding down the lane. " "Good heavens, what an idea! I have not the smallest wish to meetMonsieur le Préfet. I believe that gentleman keeps a black book, inwhich I am quite sure my name is written. Yes indeed, mademoiselle, ifhe should happen to pass, send him a little farther. Tell him he willfind a nest of Chouans at Vaujour, or anywhere else your fancysuggests. " Henriette laughed and nodded. "Trust me, monsieur, " she said. "Your little cousin is charming, " said Monsieur des Barres to Angelot, who was politely waiting for him in the hall. The six men were soon sitting at Monsieur Joseph's hospitable roundtable. As they dispatched their plates of steaming soup they saw theslim blue figure of Henriette, with two dogs at her heels, flit past thewindow in the direction of the steep lane down which Angelot had comenot very long before. This lane led not only to the _landes_, but byother lanes to one of the rare high roads of the country, and on to thechief town of the department. It was partly for this reason thatMonsieur Joseph, who valued privacy and independence, left it in itspresent break-neck condition, more like the dry course of a torrent thana civilised road. A large dish of eggs followed the soup. But only half the guests hadbeen helped, when all the dogs about the place began to bark savagely. And then, out of the shadow of the wood, darting down past the back ofthe kitchen, Henriette came flying to the dining-room window, almostupsetting Gigot and his dish as she sprang over the step. "Papa, papa, there is a party riding down the lane. I believe it isMonsieur le Préfet and an officer with him, and three servants. I ran upthe wood. They had only just turned into the lane, and they are comingdown very slowly; their horses don't like it. " Monsieur Joseph rapped out a tremendous oath, and looked round at hisguests, whose faces were a study. "The Prefect and the General!" he said. "Now is your moment, gentlemen!" CHAPTER III "JE SUIS LE GÉNÉRAL BIM-BAM-BOUM!" All the men rose to their feet, except the elder d'Ombré, who had takena very long draught of his host's good wine, and now stared stupidly atthe others. César d'Ombré's eyes flamed with excitement. He seized thearm of Angelot, who was next to him, in such a grip that the youngfellow flinched and frowned. "It is our moment!" he cried. "Six to two"--then savagely, andtightening his grasp--"unless we are betrayed--" "What do you mean, sir?" cried Angelot, his uncle, and Monsieur deBourmont, all in a breath. Monsieur des Barres laughed as he looked at Henriette. "The idea is absurd, " he said--"and yet, " in a lower tone--"mademoisellehas proved herself an amazingly true prophetess. However, it isabsurd--" There was a moment or two of uproar. Angelot, having impatiently shakenoff the Baron's hand, was demanding that he should withdraw his words. He, having apparently at once forgotten them, was insisting that nowindeed was the time to prove a man's loyalty, that they must stand alltogether and dare all things, that the Prefect and the General, once atLes Chouettes, must never leave it but as prisoners, that the Governmentwould be instantly demoralised, and the insurrection would catch andflame like a fire in dry grass-- "And be put out as easily, " shouted Monsieur de Bourmont. "Madness, madness! Mere midsummer foolery. Go and hide yourself, firebrand!" "Shoot them on the spot! Where are my pistols?" stammered the old Comte, beginning to understand the situation. Monsieur des Barres laughed till he held his sides. Henriette gave himone or two angry and scornful glances, while Gigot, under her orders, whisked glasses and plates and dishes into a cupboard, pushed backchairs against the wall, took away every sign of the good meal justbegun. In the midst of all this clatter Monsieur Joseph said a few wordswith eager nods and signs to Monsieur de Bourmont, and they two, takingthe old man by each arm, led him forcibly out towards the west side ofthe house. "Bring the others!" said Monsieur Joseph to his nephew, who waslistening as if fascinated to César d'Ombré's ravings. The little uncle was angry, Angelot perceived. He stamped his foot, asif he meant to be obeyed. Angelot had never seen him in such a state ofanxiety and excitement, or heard such words as his sincerely pious mouthhad let fall two minutes before--in Riette's presence, too! Old Joubardwas wrong: these plots were not exactly to be laughed at. Angelot, realising that the Prefect and the General were really in danger oftheir lives from men like the Messieurs d'Ombré, thought ratherseriously of his own father. At the same time, he longed to punish Césarfor what he had dared to say about betrayal. Yes, he was his father'sson; and so the sight of him was enough to make these wild Chouanssuspect far better Royalists than themselves. There was an account tosettle with Monsieur des Barres, too. His polite manners were all verywell, but his words to Henriette just now were insulting. Angelot wasangry with his uncle's guests, and not particularly inclined to helpthem out of their present predicament. He stood gloomily, withoutattempting to obey his uncle, till Henriette came up to him suddenly. "Ange--the horses into the hiding-place! Do you hear--quick, quick!" It might be possible to hesitate in obeying Uncle Joseph, but CousinHenriette was a far more autocratic person. And then her good sensenever failed, and was always convincing; she was never in doubt as toher own right course or other people's: and Angelot, who had nosisters, loved her like a little sister, and accepted her tyrannousways joyfully. She had hardly spoken when he was out of the window, and with a fewstrides across the sunshine had disappeared into the dark and cavernousarchway of the stables. Henriette turned to the two remaining guests, César d'Ombré stillarguing in favour of instant action with Monsieur des Barres, who lookedserious enough now, and stood shrugging his shoulders. "Follow me, gentlemen, " said the child. "I know where my papa is waitingfor you. " "Mademoiselle, we are in your hands, " said the Vicomte, bowing. "We havenever for an instant lost confidence in you. " She bent her head, with the air and smile of a woman who ratherscornfully accepts an apology. She went out of the dining-room and alongthe hall, the two men following her. César d'Ombré lingered as far as hedared, and grumbled between his teeth. At that very moment the Prefect of the department, with the newlyappointed General in command of the troops stationed there, onlyescorted by three men in the dress of gendarmes, rode slowly and gentlyround the back of the kitchen into the sandy courtyard of Les Chouettes. "Monsieur de la Marinière's hermitage, " said the Prefect to hiscompanion. "It looks like one, sapristi!" said the General. Nothing could seem stiller, more fast asleep, than Les Chouettes in theapproaching noon of that hot September day. The dogs barked and growled, it was true, but only one of them, the youngest, troubled himself to getup from where he lay in the warm sand. No human creature was to be seenabout the house or buildings; the silence of the woods lay all around;the dry air smelt delicately of wood smoke and fir trees; the shadowswere very deep, cutting across the broad belts of glowing sunshine. "Every one is asleep, " said the Prefect. "I am afraid breakfast is over;we ought to have arrived an hour ago. " "Caught them napping!" chuckled the General. The voices, and the clinking of bridles, as the little cavalcade passedtowards the house at a walking pace, brought the cook to the kitchendoor. She stared in consternation. She was a pretty woman, Gigot's wife, with a pale complexion and black hair; her provincial cap was verybecoming. But she now turned as red as a turkey-cock and her jawdropped, as she stared after the horsemen. No one had warned her: therehad not been time or opportunity. She was just dishing up the roast meatfor the hungry appetites of Messieurs les Chouans, when behold, thegendarmes! Who the gentlemen were, she did not know; but imperialgendarmes were never a welcome sight to Monsieur Joseph's household. "The place is like a city of the dead, " said the Prefect, drawing reinin front of the salon windows. "See if you can find any one, Simon, andask for Monsieur de la Marinière. " One of the gendarmes dismounted. Wearing the ordinary dress of thesecivil soldiers, he yet differed in some indefinable way from his twocompanions. He had the keen and wary look of a clever dog; his eyes wereeverywhere. "City of the dead, eh! Plenty of footprints of the living!" he muttered, as he turned back towards the outbuildings and noticed the trampledsand. Marie Gigot saw him coming, and dived back into her kitchen. "Ah! it is that demon!" she said to herself. "Holy Virgin, defend us! Ithought that wretch was gone. All of them in the dining-room--the stablefull of their horses, and no one there but that ignorant Tobie! We aredone for at last, that's sure. Eh! there's Monsieur Angelot talking tohim. But of course it is hopeless. That must be the Prefect. To be surethey say he is better than the last--and it may be only a friendlyvisit--and why should not my master have his friends to breakfast? Butthen, again, what brings that Simon, that Chouan-catcher, as they callhim! Why, Gigot told me of half-a-dozen fellows who had sworn to shoothim, and not a hundred miles from here. " She ran to the door again and looked out. Angelot, cool and quiet, hadcome out of the stable and met the gendarme face to face, returning hissalutation with indifference. "It is Monsieur le Préfet? Certainly, my uncle is at home, " he said. "Iam not sure that he is in the house, " and he walked on towards the groupof horsemen. "Not in the house!" breathed the cook. "They are hiding, then! They musthave heard or seen them coming--ah, how stupid I am! I saw mademoisellerun past the window. " Angelot came bareheaded, smiling, to represent his uncle in welcomingthe Prefect to Les Chouettes. He would not have been his father's son ifthe droll side of the situation had not struck him. He thought itexquisite, though he was sorry for his uncle's annoyance. The Chouanguests had irritated him, and that they should lose their breakfastseemed a happy retribution, though he would have done all he could tosave them from further penalties. Angelot looked up at the Prefect, hishandsome sleepy eyes alight with laughter. "Do my uncle the pleasure of coming in, monsieur, " he said. "He will behere immediately; he has been out shooting. It is exactly breakfasttime. " "We shall be very grateful for your uncle's hospitality; we have had along ride in the heat, " said the Prefect. His eyes as they met Angelot's were very keen, as well as very kind andgentle. He was a singularly good-looking man, and sat his horsegracefully. His manners were those of the great world; he was one of thenoblest and most popular of the men of old family who had rallied to theEmpire, believing that Napoleon's genius and the glory of France wereone. "Monsieur le Général, " he said, turning to his companion, "let mepresent Monsieur Ange de la Marinière, the son of Monsieur Urbain de laMarinière, one of my truest friends in the department. " The rough and mocking voice that answered--"Happy to make hisacquaintance"--brought the colour into Angelot's face as he bowed. The Prefect, who for reasons of his own watched the lad curiously, sawthe change, the cloud that darkened those frank looks suddenly, andunderstood it pretty well. The new military commander, risen from theranks in every sense, had nothing to justify his position exceptcourage, a talent for commanding, and devotion to the Emperor. That hewas not now fighting in Spain was due partly to quarrels with othergenerals, partly to wounds received in the last Austrian campaign, whichunfitted him for the time for active service. In sending him to thisRoyalist province of the West, Napoleon might have aimed at providingthe Prefect with an effective foil to his own character and connections. The great Emperor by no means despised the trick of setting hisservants to watch one another. One personal peculiarity this General possessed, which had both helpedand hindered him in his career. As Monsieur des Barres said, he wasexceedingly like his master. A taller, heavier man, his face and headwere a coarse likeness of Napoleon's. There were the lines of beautywithout the sweetness, the strength without the genius, the ingrainedselfishness unveiled by any mask, even of policy. General Ratoneau wasrepulsive where Napoleon was attractive. He had fought under Napoleonfrom the beginning, and had risen by his own efforts, disliked by allhis superiors, even by the Emperor, to whom the strange likeness did notrecommend him. But it had a great effect on the men who fought underhim. Though he was a brutal leader, they were ready to follow himanywhere, and had been known to call him _le gros caporal_, so strongand obvious was this likeness. He was a splendid soldier, thoughill-tempered, cruel, and overbearing. He was a man to be reckoned with, and so the amiable Prefect found. Having himself plenty of scruples, plenty of humanity, and a horror of civil war, he found a colleague withnone of these difficult to manage. Nothing, for instance, was furtherfrom the Prefect's wish than to spy upon his Royalist neighbours and todrive them to desperation. The very word _Chouan_ represented to GeneralRatoneau a wild beast to be trapped or hunted. Angelot looked at this man, and from the first glance hated him. Therewas something insolent in the stare of those bold dark eyes, which werebloodshot, too, matching the redness and coarseness of the face;something mocking, threatening, as much as to say: "Very fine, youngfellow, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe you, baby as youare, and your father, and your uncle, and the whole boiling of you, area set of traitors to the Emperor and ought to be hanged in a row onthose trees of yours. So take care how you behave, young man!" The Prefect read Angelot's looks, and saw what kind of instantimpression the General had made. No girl, at the moment, could haveshown her feelings more plainly. Angelot might have said aloud, "Whatodious wretch is this!" such proud disgust was written on his face. Buthe recovered himself instantly, and again laughter was very near thesurface as he begged these new guests to dismount. For the outwittingand disappointing of such a horrible official was even a richer piece offun than the disturbance of the poor Chouans at their breakfast table. Nothing could have been more agreeable than the manner in which MonsieurJoseph received his unexpected visitors. They were hardly in the salonwhen he came lightly along the hall, step and air those of a muchyounger man. All smiles, he shook hands affectionately with the Prefectand bowed ceremoniously to the General. They had done him the greatesthonour, caused him the keenest delight, by this friendly visit ofsurprise. Only he must beg them to pardon the deficiencies of hishousehold. He really could not say what sort of breakfast they werelikely to find. Plenty, he hoped--for his nephew had come in from a longmorning's sport, half-an-hour ago, and the cook knew how to a measure ayoung man's appetite. But as to quality--he could only throw himself onthe kind indulgence of his friends. "As for me, " said the General, "I am as hungry as a wolf, and I couldeat a lump of brown bread, and wash it down with a quart of sour wine. " "Ah, ah! a true soldier, monsieur!" said Monsieur Joseph, and clappedhis hands gently. "My uncle's wine is not sour, as Monsieur le Général will find, " saidAngelot. The General replied, with a scowl and a shrug, "I don't suppose you meanto compare your wine from this poor soil with the wine of the South, forinstance. " "Ah, pardon, but I do!" cried the boy. "This very morning, our farmer onthe _landes_ gave me a glass of wine, white sparkling wine, which youwould hardly match in France, except, of course, in the real champagnecountry. And even as to that, our wine is purer. It tastes of sunshineand of the white grapes of the vineyard. There is nothing better. " "Nothing better for children, I dare say, " said General Ratoneau, witha laugh. "Men like something stronger than sunshine and grapes. So willyou, one of these days. " Angelot looked hard at the man for a moment. He sat squarely, twistinghis whip in his hands, on one of Monsieur Joseph's old Louis Quinzechairs, which seemed hardly fit to bear his weight. The delicateatmosphere of old France was all about him. Angelot and his uncle wereincarnations of it, even in their plain shooting clothes; and thePrefect, the Baron de Mauves, was worthy in looks and manners of the oldrégime from which he sprang. The other man was a son of the Revolutionand of a butcher at Marseilles. With his glittering uniform, his look ofa coarse Roman, he was the very type of military tyranny at its worst, without even the good manners of past days to soften the frank insolenceof a soldier. "Voilà l'Empire! I wish my father could see him!" Angelot thought. Monsieur Joseph looked at his nephew. His sweet smile had faded, asudden shadow of anxiety taking its place. How would Angelot bear withthis man? Would he remember that in spite of all provocation he must betreated civilly? The Prefect also glanced up a little nervously atAngelot as he stood. Had the handsome, attractive boy any share at allof his father's wisdom and faultless temper? Angelot was conscious of both these warnings. He answered the littleuncle's with a smile, and said easily--"It is possible--I cannot tell. As to the wine--I will ask your opinion after breakfast, monsieur. " The Prefect's face cleared up suddenly. Angelot was a worthy son of hisfather. "It is quite unnecessary, my dear friend, " he said to Monsieur Joseph, "for you to attempt to alarm us about our breakfast. Your cook can workmiracles. This is not the first time, remember, that I have taken you bysurprise. " "And you are always welcome, my dear Baron, " Monsieur Joseph answeredgently, but a little dreamily. "I shall now have a fresh attraction in this country, " the Prefect said. "With your cousin, De Sainfoy, at Lancilly, your neighbourhood willindeed leave nothing to be desired. " "Hervé is an agreeable man, " said Monsieur Joseph. "I have not seen himfor many years; I do not know his wife and family. My brother is charmedto welcome them all. " "Of course, and they must feel that they owe everything to him. Monsieuryour brother is a benefactor to his country and species, " said thePrefect, with a smile at Angelot. "Madame de Sainfoy is an exceedinglypretty woman. She made quite a sensation at Court in the spring, and Ishould think there will not be much difficulty in her getting theappointment I understand she wishes--lady in waiting to the Empress. Only they say that the Emperor does not quite trust De Sainfoy--findshim a little half-hearted. " "That is possible, " said Monsieur Joseph, gently. "Well, it is a pity, " said the Prefect. "If you accept the new régime atall, you should do it loyally. " "My cousin has a son fighting in Spain. That ought to be placed to hiscredit. " "And no doubt it is. His daughter, too, may do something. There is onlyone grown up, and she has not been brought much into society--herfather's fault, they say; he has ideas of his own about marrying her. But I am telling you what you know already?" "Not at all, monsieur. I have heard nothing of it. When my cousins liveat Lancilly, the family councils may include me; so far they have notdone so. I did not even realise that Mademoiselle Hélène was old enoughto be married. And what match is arranged for her?" "None that I know of. Her father's action has been negative, notpositive, I understand. He has simply refused to consider one or twosuggested marriages, either of which would have been good politically. " "Reasons of birth, I suppose, " said Monsieur Joseph. "He has my cordialsympathy. " The Prefect coughed; the General scraped his chair; Angelot nearlylaughed aloud. "You will find it very agreeable to have your cousins at Lancilly, " thePrefect said, looking at him kindly. "I don't know, monsieur, " Angelot answered. "Young girls are hardlycompanions for me. " "Indeed! As to that--" began the Prefect, still smiling as he looked atthe lad; but his remark was cut short and his attention pleasantlydistracted. Gigot, with unshaken solemnity, set open the doors for the second timethat morning. "Monsieur est servi!" CHAPTER IV HOW THE BREAKFAST COOKED FOR THOSE WAS EATEN BY THESE The Prefect and the General enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly. They satover it long; so long that Angelot, his hunger satisfied, began tosuffer in his young limbs from a terrible restlessness. It was as muchas he could do to sit still, listening first to the Prefect's politicaland society talk, then to stories of the General's campaigns. Under theinfluence of the despised wine of Anjou, Monsieur de Mauves, whosetemper needed no sweetening, became a little sleepy, prosy, andlong-winded. General Ratoneau on his side was mightily cheered, andshowed quite a new animation: long before the meal ended, he was talkingmore than the other three put together. It was he who had been the heroof Eylau, of Friedland, of Wagram; the Emperor and the Marshals werenowhere. All the great movements were in consequence of his advice. Andthen his personal courage! The men he had killed with his own hand! Asto the adventures which had fallen to his lot in storming and plunderingtowns, burning villages, quartering his men on country houses, theseoften belonged so much to the very seamiest side of war that MonsieurJoseph, soldier as he was, listened with a frown, and the Prefectcoughed and glanced more than once at Angelot. For some of these storieswere hardly suited to young and innocent ears, and Angelot looked, andindeed was, younger than his age. He was listening, not curiously, but with a kind of unwillingimpatience. The man seemed to impress him in spite of himself, in spiteof disgust at the stories and dislike of the teller. Once or twice helaughed, and then General Ratoneau gave him a stare, as if just remindedof his existence, and went on to some further piece of coarse bragging. Monsieur Joseph became paler and graver, Angelot more restless, thePrefect sleepier, as the rough voice talked on. Angelot thoughtbreakfast would never be over, and that this brute would never have doneboasting of his fine deeds, such as hanging up six brothers in a rowoutside their own house, and threatening the mother and sisters with thesame fate unless they showed him the way to the cellar, where he knewthey had hidden plate and jewellery, as well as a quantity of good wine. "You would not have done it, monsieur?" said Angelot, quickly. The General assured him with oaths that he certainly would. "And they knew it, and did as they were told, " he said. "We did not hurtthem, as it happened. We stripped the house, and left them to bury theirmen, if they chose. What had they to expect? Fortune of war, my boy!" Angelot shrugged his shoulders. "You should send that nephew of yours to learn a few things in thearmy, " the General said to Monsieur Joseph, when they at last rose andleft the dining-room. "He will grow up nothing but an ignorant, womanishbaby, if you keep him down here among your woods much longer. " "I am not his father, " Monsieur Joseph answered with some dryness. "Heis a friend of the Prefect's; you can easily remonstrate with him, Monsieur le Général. But you are mistaken about young Ange. He isneither a girl nor a baby, but a very gallant young fellow, still humaneand innocent, of course--but your stories might pierce a thicker skin, Ifancy. " The General laughed aloud, as they strolled out at the back of the houseinto the afternoon sunshine. "Well, well, a soldier has the right to talk, " he said. "I need not tella man who knows the world, like you, that I should never have hangedthose women--poor country rubbish though they were, and ugly too, Iremember. But the men had tried to resist, and martial law must beobeyed. " Some reassurance of the same kind was given to Angelot by the Prefect, who lingered behind with him. "And our conscripts go for this, monsieur!" Angelot said. "My dear boy, " said Monsieur de Mauves, lazily, "you must take thesetales _cum grano_. For instance, if I know the Emperor, he would haveshot the man who hanged those women. And our friend Ratoneau knew it. " Les Chouettes seemed stiller than ever, the sun hotter, the atmospheremore sleepy and peaceful. The dogs were lying in various directions atfull length on the sand. The sleeping forms of the Prefect's gendarmeswere also to be seen, stretched on the grass under the southern belt offir trees. One moving figure came slowly into sight on the edge of theopposite wood, and strolled into the sunshine, stooping as she came topick the pale purple crocuses of which the grass was full--littleHenriette, a basket on her arm, her face shaded by a broad straw bonnet. The General shaded his eyes with his hand, and stared at her. "Who is that young girl, monsieur?" he asked. The question itself seemed impertinent enough, but the insolence of thetone and the manner sent a quiver through Monsieur Joseph's nerves. Hisface twitched and his eyes flashed dangerously. At that moment he wouldhave forgiven any rashness on the part of his Chouan friends; he wouldhave liked to see Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol within a few inches of theGeneral's head, and if it had gone off, so much the better. He wonderedwhy he had not encouraged César d'Ombré's idea of making these menprisoners. Perhaps he was right, after all; the boldest policy mighthave been the best. Perhaps it was a splendid opportunity lost. Anyhow, the imperial officials would have been none the worse for cooling theirheels and starving a little, the fate of the Royalists now. As to theconsequences, Monsieur Joseph in his present mood might have made shortwork of them, had it not been for that young girl in the meadow. "It is my daughter, Monsieur le Général. " A person with finer instincts could not have failed to notice the angryshortness of the reply. But the General was in high good humour, forhim, and he coolly went on adding to his offences. "Your daughter, is it! I did not know you were married. I understoodfrom Monsieur le Préfet that you were a lonely hermit. Is there a Madamede la Marinière hidden away somewhere? and possibly a few more children?This house is a kind of beehive, I dare say--" he walked on to thegrass, and turned to stare at the windows. "Was madame afraid toentertain us? My stories would have been too strong for her, perhaps?but I assure you, monsieur, I know how to behave to women!" and helaughed. "I hope so, monsieur, especially as you are not now in Germany, " saidMonsieur Joseph, thinking very earnestly of his own sword and pistols, ready for use in his own room. He need only step in at that window, a few yards off. A fierce word, ablow, would be a suitable beginning--and then--if only Riette were outof sight, and the Prefect would not interfere--there could not be abetter ground than the sand here by the house. Must one wait for all theformalities of a duel, with the Prefect and Angelot to see fair play?However, he tried hard to restrain himself, at least for the moment. "My wife is dead, monsieur, and I have but that one child, " he said, forcing the words out with difficulty: it was a triumph of the wise andgentle Joseph over the fiery and passionate Joseph. He thought of Urbain, when he wanted to conquer that side of himself;Urbain, who by counsel and influence had made it safe for him to liveunder the Empire, and who now, hating vulgarity and insolence as much ashe did himself, would have pointed out that General Ratoneau's militarybrutality was not worth resenting; that there were greater things atstake than a momentary annoyance; that the man's tongue had beenloosened, his lumbering spirit quickened, by draughts of sparkling wineof Anjou, and that his horrible curiosity carried no intentional insultwith it. Indeed, as Monsieur Joseph perceived immediately, with a kindof wonder, the man fancied that he was making himself agreeable to hishost. "Ah, sapristi, I am sorry for you, monsieur, and for the young ladytoo, " he said. "I am not married myself--but the loss of wife and mothermust be a dreadful thing. Excuse a soldier's tongue, monsieur. " Monsieur Joseph accepted the apology with a quick movement of head andhand, being as placable as he was passionate. The General continued tostare at Henriette, who moved slowly, seeming to think of nothing, tosee nothing, but the wild flowers and the crowd of flitting butterfliesin the meadow. During this little interlude, one of the gendarmes, who had seemedasleep, got up and moved towards the Prefect, who turned to speak tohim, and after the first word walked with him a few yards, so as to beout of hearing of the others. Angelot, who had been standing beside thePrefect, glanced after them with a touch of anxiety. He did not like thelooks of that gendarme, though he had not, like Marie Gigot, recognisedhim as specially dangerous. He walked forward a few steps and stoodbeside his uncle. Suppose the meeting of that morning, risky if notunlawful, were to come to the Prefect's knowledge; suppose his uncle'sdangerous friends were ferreted out of their hiding-place in the wood;what then was he, his father's son, to do? His mother's son, though farenough from sharing her enthusiasms, had an answer ready: whatever itmight cost, he must stand by the little uncle and Riette. "Your daughter is still young, "--it was the General's hoarse voice--"tooyoung yet to be reported to the Emperor. Monsieur le Préfet must waitthree or four years. Then, when she is tall and pretty--" Angelot's brow darkened. What was the creature saying? "You were pleased to mean--" Monsieur Joseph was asking, with extremecivility. "Ah, bah, have you heard nothing of the new order? Well, as I say, itwill not affect you at present. But ask Monsieur le Préfet. He willexplain. It is rather a sore subject with him, I believe, he has theprejudices of his class--of your class, I mean. " "You are talking in riddles, indeed, monsieur, " said Monsieur Joseph. They looked round at the Prefect. He had now finished his short talkwith the gendarme, and as he turned towards the other group, Angelot'syoung eyes perceived a shadow on his kind face, a grave look of awakenedinterest. Angelot was also aware that he beckoned to him. As soon as hecame up with him, the Prefect said, "That is mademoiselle your cousin, is it not, gathering flowers in the meadow? I should like to pay her mycompliments, if she is coming this way. " "I will go and tell her so, Monsieur le Préfet, " said Angelot. "Do, my friend. " His eyes, anxious and thoughtful, followed the young man as he walkedacross towards the distant edge of the wood, whose dark shadows openedbehind Riette and the crocuses. She looked up, startled, as her cousincame near, and for a moment seemed to think of disappearing into thewood; but a sign from him reassured her, and she came with a dancingstep to meet him. "I have been rousing curiosity, Monsieur le Préfet, " said the General, smiling grimly, as the Prefect rejoined the other men. "I have beentelling Monsieur de la Marinière that one of these days you will reporthis daughter to the Emperor. " The Prefect looked angry and annoyed. His handsome face flushed. With aninvoluntary movement he laid his hand on Monsieur Joseph's shoulder;their eyes met, and both men smiled. "I sometimes think, " said Monsieur de Mauves, "that His Majesty does notyet quite know France. His ideas have great spirit and originality, butthey are not always very practical. " "They are generally put into practice, " growled the General. "Yes--but I do not think this one will go far. Certainly, it will havedied out long before Mademoiselle de la Marinière is grown up. " "But explain, my dear friend!" cried Monsieur Joseph. "Is the Emperorgoing to raise a regiment of Amazons, to fight Russia? I am dying withcuriosity. " "Some people would find your idea less disagreeable than the fact, " saidthe Prefect, smiling, while the General shook with laughter. "Amazons! ha! ha! capital! I should like to lead them. " It seemed that the Prefect, for once, was ashamed of his great master. He went on to explain, in a hurried fashion, how he and his brotherPrefects had received this very singular command from the Emperor--thatthey were to send him, not a mere list, but a _catalogue raisonné_, ofall the well-born girls in their several departments; their personalappearance, their disposition, their dowries, their prospects in thefuture; in short, every particular regarding them. And with what object?to arrange marriages between these young women of the best blood inFrance and his most favoured officers. It was one way, an original way, of making society loyal to the Empire; but the plan savoured too much ofthe treatment of a conquered country to please men like the Baron deMauves. He might speak of it with a certain outward respect, as comingfrom the Emperor; and the presence of General Ratoneau was also a checkupon his real sentiments; but he was not surprised at Monsieur Joseph'sevident disgust, and not out of sympathy with it. The reign of the soldier! They were heroes, perhaps, many of these menwhom Napoleon delighted to honour. It was not unnatural that he shouldheap dukedoms and pensions and orders upon them. But it seemed adangerous step forward, to force such men as this Ratoneau, forinstance, into the best families of France. No doubt he, in spite of hisNapoleonic looks, was a bad specimen; but Monsieur Joseph might beexcused if he looked at him as he said: "My dear Baron, it is tyranny. Ispeak frankly, gentlemen; it is a step on the road to ruin. Our oldfamilies will not bear it. What have you done?" "Nothing, " said Monsieur de Mauves. "I think most of the Prefects agreewith me; it is an order which will have to be repeated. " On which the General turned round with a grin, and quoted to him his ownwords--"Monsieur le Préfet--if you accept the new régime, you shouldaccept it loyally. " "Pardon--nothing of this before the children, I beg, " exclaimed MonsieurJoseph in haste, for Angelot and Henriette were coming across themeadow. The Prefect's delicate brows went up; he shrugged his shoulders, andmoved off with a somewhat absent air to meet the young people. The sunshine, the flowery meadow, the motionless woods all about in thestill afternoon: no background could be more peaceful. Nor could anyunwelcome visitor with official power be more gentle and courteous thanthe Prefect as he took off his hat and bowed low to the slim child inher old clinging frock, who curtseyed with her hands full of crocusesand a covered basket on her arm. But little Riette and her cousinAngelot watched the amiable Prefect with anxious, suspicious eyes, andshe took his kind words and compliments with an ease of reply which wasnot quite natural. She was a responsible person in her father's house atall times; but the fates of men had never, perhaps, been hung round herneck before. Why, the very fact of their concealment would be enough tocondemn the four in government eyes looking out for conspiracies. AndMonsieur des Barres, always lively, had said to Riette ten minutes ago:"Now, mademoiselle, you have sheltered us, you have fed us; we depend onyou to keep all inconvenient persons out of the wood. " "Stay where you are till they are gone, and have no fear, " the childanswered, and went back to meet the enemy. And presently the Prefect said, "You have gathered some very prettyflowers, mademoiselle. " "Pray take some, monsieur, " said Riette. The Prefect took two crocuses in his fingers, and cleverly slipped theminto a buttonhole, for which they were not very well suited. Then hewent on talking about flowers for a minute or two, but the subject wassoon exhausted, for his knowledge lay among garden flowers, and Rietteknew none but those that grew among her own woods and fields. Thensuddenly and without warning, those pointed fingers of his had liftedthe cover of the basket. It was done with a smile, as one might do it, alittle mischievously, to a child trying to hide something, and with thewords--"More flowers, mademoiselle?" At the bottom of the basket lay twocorks and a small roll of bread. St. Elizabeth's miracle was notrepeated for Henriette. Angelot smiled and bit his lip; then looked at the faces of his twocompanions. In the Prefect's there was plainly a question. Rietteflushed crimson; for a moment her dark eyes were cast down; then therewas something both roguish and pathetic in them, as she looked up at theman on whom so much depended. "Monsieur, " said the sweet, childish voice, "I often eat my breakfastout-of-doors--I did to-day. " The Prefect smiled, but gravely. Angelot hardly thought that he wasdeceived. "It is an agreeable thing to do, when one is young, " the Prefect said. "Young, and with a clear conscience. But most people, if they had thechoice, would prefer your father's hospitable dining-room. " He turned with a wave of his hand and walked towards the house. "What have you done, child?" said Angelot, half laughing, half solemn. "I did not tell a lie, " said Riette. "Marie gave me something for myselftoo: she and papa both said I must not have breakfast with you. Oh, theywere hungry, Angelot! They devoured what I took, especially the Barond'Ombré. I am sorry there was a bit of bread left, and I don't know howthe corks got there. But, my dear, he knows nothing!" "Hush. I am not so sure. Now keep out of the way till they are gone. " This was a counsel of perfection, which Henriette did her best tofollow; but it was difficult, for the time was long. All the householdat Les Chouettes became very restless and impatient as the afternoonwore on, but none of them dared show it. Poor Monsieur Joseph summonedup all his powers of general conversation, which were a little rusty, toentertain the Prefect, who went on talking politics and society as iflife, for him, had no more immediate and present interest. Angelotmarched about with an uneasy sense of keeping guard; knowing, too, thathis father was expecting him to help to receive the distinguishedcousins at Lancilly. He did not mind that much; the idea of the Sainfoyfamily was not very attractive to him: he thought they might interferewith the old freedom of the country-side; and even to please his fatherhe could not desert his little uncle in a difficulty. He poured out someof his irritation on the Prefect's pet gendarme, whom he caught stealinground by the wood where, hidden behind a pile of logs in an old stonehovel, the four Royalist gentlemen were finding this official visitconsiderably more than a joke. "What are you doing on my uncle's land?" Angelot said sharply to theman. "Nothing, monsieur. Is it not allowed to take a little exercise?" saidSimon, the Chouan-catcher. There was such a keen look in the man's eyes, such a veiled insolence inhis tone, that Angelot suddenly felt he must say no more. He mutteredsomething about disturbing the game, and passed on. Simon grinned as helooked after him. All this time the General was fast asleep, stretched on a sofa in thesalon. Angelot looked in upon him as he lay snoring. With his eyes shut, he was more like the Emperor than ever; and as with Napoleon, there wasa sort of fascination in the brow, the chin, the shape of the head, though here there was coarseness instead of refinement, the power ofwill without the genius. "He is a handsome beast, but I hate him!" the young man thought as helooked through the window. "Now if our excellent Chouans were here, whatwould they do? Probably nothing. And what can anybody do? Nothing. Fatehas brought the Empire, as my father says, and he does not agree withUncle Joseph that it does much more harm than good. For my part, I wouldas soon live in peace--and it does not please me to be ruled byoverbearing soldiers and police spies. However, as long as they leave memy dog and gun and the freedom of the woods, they may have theirpolitics to themselves for me. --Here I am, dear uncle. " He turned from the window with a shrug. Monsieur Joseph and the Prefecthad been strolling about the meadow, and the Prefect now expressed awish to walk round the woods, and to see the view of Lancilly from thehigh ground beyond them. Angelot went with the two men. They walked right through the wood. ThePrefect stopped and talked within twenty yards of the hovel where thefour conspirators lay hidden. It was a grand opportunity for oldMonsieur d'Ombré's pistol-shot; but not a movement, not a sound brokethe stillness of the wood. There was only the rustling of the leaves, the squeak of the squirrels as they raced and scampered in the highbranches of the oaks. The two La Marinières stood on each side of Monsieur de Mauves: theywere a guard to him, though he did not know it, as his eyes wanderedcuriously, searchingly, down the glade in which he chose to linger. A rough whitewashed corner of the hovel, the mass of its dark roof, were actually visible beyond an undergrowth of briars. "What have you there?" said the Prefect, so quietly that his companionsdid not even suspect him of a suspicion. "A shelter--an old hovel where wood is stored for the winter, " MonsieurJoseph answered truthfully; but his cheeks and eyes brightened a little, as if prepared for something more. "Ah!" the Prefect only said, looking rather fixedly that way. "And whereis this view of Lancilly?" Both the uncle and nephew breathed more freely as they led him up thehill, through higher slopes of wood, then under some great branchingoaks, here allowed to grow to their full size, and out into a ruggedlane, winding on through wild hedges festooned with blackberries. Here, at the top, they looked straight across the valley to Lancilly, as itlay in the sunshine. Its high roofs flashing, it looked indeed themajestic centre of the country-side. Angelot gazed at it indifferently. Again the Prefect turned to him with his kind smile. "It will be charming for you to have your cousins there. They willreconcile you to the powers that be. " Angelot answered: "I have no quarrel with the powers that be, monsieur, as long as you represent them. As to life, I want no change. Give me agun and set me on a moor with my uncle. There we are!" "If I thought your uncle was quite so easily satisfied!" the Prefectsaid, and his look, as he turned to Monsieur Joseph, was a littleenigmatical. CHAPTER V HOW ANGELOT MADE AN ENEMY The sun was near setting when the Prefect and his companions rode awayfrom Les Chouettes, their visit having resulted, as it seemed, innothing worse than annoyance and anxiety. Joseph de la Marinière drew a long breath as he saw them go. The Prefectlooked back once or twice and saw him standing near his house, a smallblack figure in the full blaze of the west. He seemed to be alone withhis dogs, though in fact Riette and the three servants were peepinground the corner of the house beyond him, waiting for the finaldisappearance of the visitors. He had asked Angelot to guide themthrough the labyrinth of woods and lanes to a road leading to a townwhich the Prefect wished to reach before nightfall. As Angelot was onfoot, their progress was slow; and it seemed an age to Monsieur Josephtill they had crossed his broad meadow to the south, and instead ofgoing on towards Lancilly, had struck into a wood on the left throughwhich a narrow path ran. When the last gendarme had passed from bright sunshine into shadows, when the tramp of the last horse had died away, Monsieur Joseph made alittle joyful spring into the air and called, "Riette, my child, whereare you?" "Here I am, papa!" cried the girl, darting forward. "Ah, what a day wehave had!" "And what an evening we will have now!" said Monsieur Joseph. He seized her two hands, and they danced round together. In the shadowbehind the house Gigot and Marie followed their example, while Tobie, having no partner, jumped up and down with his arms akimbo. MademoiselleRiette, catching sight of him, laughed so exhaustingly that she coulddance no longer. Then the whole family laughed till the tears ran downtheir faces, while the dogs sat round and wagged their tails. "The good God has protected us, " said Gigot, coming forward to hismaster. "Does monsieur know that one of those gendarmes was Simon, thepolice agent, the Chouan-catcher, they call him? When I saw him, myheart died within me. But we were too clever for him. He went smellingabout, but he found nothing. " "He smelt something, though, " growled Tobie the groom. "He would havesearched the stable and found the inner place if I had not stood infront of him: luckily I was the biggest man of the two. It is not soeasy, do you see, to make a way past me. " "I gave them enough good food and wine to send them to sleep for theafternoon, " said Marie the cook. "It was a sad waste, but the only wayto keep such creatures quiet. " "What a terrible man, that General!" said Gigot. "How he slept andsnored and kicked the sofa! you can see the marks of his boots now. Andhow he resembles the Emperor! I know, for I saw his Majesty once--" "Stop your recollections, Gigot, " said Monsieur Joseph; for Gigot, likemany solemn and silent people, was difficult to check when once settalking. "We have something else to think of now. Make haste withdinner, Marie. We must console our poor friends for their captivity. Come, Riette, we will go and fetch them. " So that evening was a merry one at Les Chouettes, and the moon was highbefore the second batch of guests climbed slowly to the moor on theirhomeward way. The day's experience had not heightened their courage, somehow, or advanced their plans for a rising. Even the Comte d'Ombréagreed that the time was hardly ripe; that five or six men might throwaway their own lives or liberties, but could not make a new revolution;that the peasants must be sounded, public opinion educated; and that thePrefect's courteous moderation was an odious quality which madeeverything more difficult. And in the meanwhile, Monsieur de Mauves was justifying theirconclusions in a way that would have startled them. Beyond the wood, Angelot led the party across stubble-fields, where bluefield flowers with grey dusty leaves clustered by the wayside, anddistant poplars, pointing high into the evening air, showed where hishome lay. Then they turned down into one of the hollow lanes of thecountry, its banks scooped out by winter rains and treading of cattle, so that it was almost like three sides of a cylinder, while the thickpollard oaks, leaning over it, made twilight even in the lingeringsunshine. The General was riding in front, the gendarmes some yards behind;Angelot, with his dog and gun, kept close beside the Prefect, who talkedto him with his usual friendliness. Presently he said, "I love youruncle, Angelot, much better than he loves me, and I am sorry that heshould run such useless risks. " "What risks, monsieur?" the young man said, glancing up quickly; andsomehow it was difficult to meet the Prefect's eyes. "Ah, you know very well. Believe me, your father is right, and youruncle is wrong. The old régime cannot be reëstablished. The path ofFrance is marked out for her; a star has arisen to guide her, and she isfoolish, suicidal, not to follow where it leads. I do not defend oradmire the Emperor in everything: but see what he has done for France. She lay ruined, distracted. She took the mountain path of liberty, madea few wrong turns, and was dashed over the precipice. See how theEmperor has built her up into a great nation again; look at the laws andthe civilisation; look at the military glory which has cost much blood, it is true, but has raised her so high in Europe that the nations whowere ready to devour her are mostly crouching at her feet. Would ourBourbons have done all this for us, Angelot? Are they, after all, worththe devotion of men like your uncle and--for instance--Monsieur desBarres? Does not true patriotism lead a man to think of his country'sgood and glory, not of the advantage of one special family? Your unclecan hardly believe in that mediæval fiction of divine right, I suppose?" Angelot smiled. "My uncle belongs to the days of Saint Louis, " he said. "But you do not, " the Prefect replied. "I find it hard to forgive him. He is free, of course, to put his own neck in danger. One of these dayshe will drive me to extremities, and will find himself and his friendsin a state prison--lucky if nothing worse happens. But he has no rightto involve you in these treasonous tricks of his. It is selfish andimmoral. Your father should see to it. You ought not to have been thereto-day. " The Prefect spoke low and earnestly. It was impossible to misunderstandhim. Angelot felt something like a cold shiver running over him. But hesmiled and answered bravely. "If my uncle has been foolish, so have I, and I will share theconsequences with him. But as to to-day, monsieur?" "I know all, " the Prefect said. "Your uncle had visitors this morning, who were spirited away out of our sight. Their horses were hidden in aninner stable; they themselves in a hovel in the wood--and if they havewaited there till we were gone, they must be tired of it. That famousbreakfast we enjoyed was not prepared on such miraculously short notice. Your little cousin, poor child, was employed to carry food to thefugitives hidden in the wood. With all my heart I pity her; a life ofpolitical plots is not happiness. But if Monsieur de la Marinière doesnot hesitate to sacrifice his daughter, it is no wonder that he lightlyruns his nephew into danger! You acted well, you and he. But I almostthink it might have been safer to carry on that first breakfast-party, and not show its character by absurd attempts at concealment. You cannotcontradict a word I have been saying, Angelot. I do not ask you to tellme the names of your uncle's guests. " "If you did, monsieur, " the young fellow answered, "I should considerthat an uncomfortable day had punished them enough, and so I shouldrespectfully decline to answer you. I don't know how you made all thesewonderful discoveries. " The Prefect looked at him and laughed. "You take it lightly!" "I am speaking to a friend, " Angelot said. "That is all very well. Yes--too good a friend, I fear, from the pointof view of duty. But I shall not repent, if you will be warned intoprudence yourself, and will warn your uncle. " "I am rather afraid, monsieur, that my father has all the prudence ofthe family. " The Prefect would have argued further, but suddenly a sound like lowthunder, still distant, echoed down the lane. "What is that?" he said, looking round. "Cattle, monsieur. Pull right into the bank and give them room to pass, "said Angelot. The gendarmes, who knew the country, had already taken this precaution. They were drawing up in single file by the side of the road, close underthe steep bank, pressing into it, in the dark shadow of the pollards. But General Ratoneau, in advance, was riding stolidly forward, clankingalong at a quick foot's pace in the very middle of the narrow lane, withall that swaggering air of a conqueror, which was better suited toGerman fields than to the quiet woody ways of France. Angelot hurriedforward. "Monsieur le Général!" he called out; but Ratoneau, though he must haveheard, did not turn his head or take any notice. "Insolent animal! I might as well leave him to fight it out with thecows, " the young fellow muttered; but for the Prefect's sake he ran on, his dog scampering after him, caught up the General, and stretched outa hand to his bridle. "What the devil do you want!" said the General, lifting his whip. "There is a herd of cows coming, " Angelot shouted, though the bloodrushed into his face at the man's involuntary movement. "You must getout of their way, or they will knock you down and trample on you. Thisis their way home. Draw up under the bank at once. " "I shall get out of nobody's way, " roared the General. "But you hadbetter get out of mine, little ape of a Chouan, or--" The whip quivered in the air; another moment would have brought it downon Angelot's bare hand. He cried out, "Take care!" and in that momentsnatched the whip and threw it over the horse's head. It fell into amass of blackberry briars which made a red and green thicket under thebank just here. The lane turned slightly and was very narrow at thisplace, with a stony slope upwards. It was a little more than usual likethe dry bed of a torrent. Only under the right-hand bank there was ayard of standing-room, where it was possible to draw aside while thecrowd of horned beasts rushed past. The thunder of their hoofs wasdrawing near. The Prefect, fifty yards behind, called out advice to hisangry colleague, which fell on deaf ears. Angelot was pelted with somechoice specimens of a soldier's vocabulary, as he seized the bridle andtried to pull the horse to the side of the road. But the rider'sviolent resistance made this impossible. The horse plunged: the General, swearing furiously, did his best to throw Angelot down under its feet. For a minute the young fellow did his best to save the obstinate man inspite of himself, but then he was obliged to let the bridle go, andstepped to the shelter of the bank, while man and horse filled up theroadway with prancing and swearing. "Give me back my whip, you--" the various epithets which followed werenew to Angelot's country ears, but their tone made them serious. Still, there was something so ridiculous in the General's fury thatAngelot could scarcely help laughing in his face as he called out inanswer, "When the cows are gone, monsieur, if you ask me civilly! I hadto take it, or you would have struck me, and that was out of thequestion. " Even as he spoke, the cattle were coming. The lane was filled with asolid mass of padding feet, panting hides, low heads, and long fiercehorns. An old bull of unfriendly aspect led the way, and one or twoyounger bulls came pushing and lowing among the quieter cows. Behind thelarge horned creatures came a few goats and sheep; then a dog, sharplybarking, and a woman, shouting and flourishing her stick. But in thisnarrow space she had no control over the herd, which poured along likewater in a stream's bed, irresistible, unresisted. They knew their ownway home from pasture to the yards at La Marinière. This was their ownroad, worn hollow by no trampling but theirs and that of theirancestors. Anything or anybody they happened to meet always drew asideto let them pass, and they were not as a rule ill-tempered. General Ratoneau thought he could ride through them, and spurred hisrestless horse, fresh from Monsieur Joseph's corn, straight at thewedged heads and shoulders of the advancing herd. The horse plunged, shied, tried to bolt; and there were a few moments of inextricableconfusion. Angelot shouted to the woman in charge of the cows; shescreamed to the dog, which dived among them, barking. Frightened, theyscrambled and crushed together so that Angelot was pressed up by theirbroad sides against the bank, and only lifted himself out of their wayby climbing to the trunk of a tree. The sun was setting; the dazzlinglight, in a sky all gold and red and purple, lay right across the lane:the General's uniform, his horse's smart trappings, flashed and swayedabove the brown mass for a moment or two as it pushed down the slope. Then the horse fell, either slipping on a stone or pushed over by thecattle, but fortunately not under their feet. He and his master rolledover together into the briars on the farther side of the lane, and therelay struggling till the beasts had crowded by, hurrying on past the restof the party, drawn prudently aside in the shelter of the bank. As soon as they were gone, the Prefect and the gendarmes rode up to helpAngelot, who had already pulled the General out of the briars, unhurt, except by scratches. The horse had at once struggled to its feet, andstood trembling in the road. It was impossible for any one but the sufferer to take such an adventureseriously. Two of the gendarmes were convulsed with laughter; it wasonly Simon whose native cleverness and keen sense of his own advantagekept his face grave and sympathising, as he handed the General his hatand the other objects which his tumble had sent flying. The Prefect wassmiling as he asked anxiously whether any bones were broken. Angelottrembled with hardly restrained laughter. It had seized him with anoverpowering force, when he saw the General's fat figure rise in the airwith a most undignified jerk, then being deposited in the thicket with afine pair of riding boots and shining spurs uppermost. This was soexactly the accident that suited the man's swaggering airs ofsuperiority, Angelot felt that he could almost forgive him his insolentwords and looks, could almost bear the incomprehensible language of fiveminutes ago, the threatened stroke with the whip--ah, by the by, herelay the precious whip, with its silver handle, safely deposited in thebushes out of the cows' way. Angelot magnanimously picked it up andpresented it to the General with a bow. He grunted a word meant forthanks, but the eyes that met Angelot's flashed with a dark fury thatstartled the careless boy and came back to his mind afterwards. "Whose beasts were those?" the General asked hoarsely. "They were my father's beasts, monsieur, " Angelot answered. "They didnot realize, unfortunately--" He broke off under a warning look from thePrefect, who went on with the sentence for him--"No one would regretsuch a tiresome accident more than your father, I am sure. " "I was going to say so, " Angelot murmured softly. "Now if they had beenmy uncle's cattle--" The General turned his back and mounted his horse. "The owner does notsignify, " he growled. "He cannot be punished. But it was eitherfoolishness or malice that brought us along such a road. " "Come, come, General, that was my fault, after all!" the Prefect saidpleasantly. "And you must acknowledge that our young friend did his bestto save you. We all knew this country and its ways better than youdid--it is a pity, but there is no more to be said. " The General seemed to be of the same opinion, for he rode off without aword. Angelot, looking after him, thought that one of these days theremight be a good deal more to be said. But now the Prefect was asking a last direction as to the road, andwishing Angelot good-night, for the sun was actually setting. His lastwords were: "Adieu, my friend! Be prudent--and make my best complimentsto your parents. No doubt we shall meet soon at Lancilly. " "And perhaps without Monsieur le Général!" said Angelot, smiling. "Possibly! We are not inseparable, " the Prefect replied, and waved hishand kindly as he rode away. "How was it that I did not strike that reptile? he tried to strike me, "Angelot reflected as he walked down the quiet lane. "Well! the Prefectand my father would have been vexed, and he had his little punishment. Some day we shall meet independently, and then we shall see, MonsieurRatoneau, we shall see! But what a somersault the creature made! If thebushes had not broken his fall, he would have been hurt, or killed, perhaps. " He laughed at the remembrance of the scene, and thought how he woulddescribe it to his mother. Then he became grave, remembering all thathad gone before. The Prefect was a friend, and a gentleman, neither ofwhich the General could ever be. But it was a serious thought that thePrefect was at present by far the most dangerous person of the two. Uncle Joseph's life and liberty were in his hands, at his mercy. Angelot frowned and whistled as he strode along. How did the Prefectfind out all that? Why, of course, those men of his were not meregendarmes; they were police spies. Especially that one with thevillanous face who was lurking round the woods! "We are all in their hands; they are the devil's own regiment, " Angelotsaid to himself. "How can Monsieur de Mauves bring himself to do suchwork among his old friends, in his old country! It is inconceivable. " Another rough lane brought Angelot into the rough road that led past theManor of La Marinière to the church and village lying beneath it, and soon into the valley and across the bridge to Lancilly. The home of his family was one of those large homesteads, half farm, half castle, which are entirely Angevin in character; and it had not yetcrumbled down into picturesque decay. Its white walls, once capable ofdefence, covered a large space on the eastern slope of the valley; itwas much shaded all about by oak, beech, and fir trees, and a tall rowof poplars bordered the road between its gateway and the church spire. The high white arch of the gateway, where a gate had once been, openedon a paved road crossing the lower end of a farmyard, and up to theright were lines of low buildings where the cows, General Ratoneau'senemies, were now being safely housed for the night, and a dove-cotetower, round which a few late pigeons were flapping. To the left anotherarchway led into a square garden with lines of tall box hedges, whereflowers and vegetables grew all together wildly, and straight on, through yet a third gate, Angelot came into a stone court in front ofthe house, white, tall, and very ancient, with a quaint porch openingstraight upon its wide staircase, which seemed a continuation of thebroad outside steps where Madame de la Marinière was now giving herchickens their evening meal. In spite of the large cap and apron that smothered her, it was plain tosee where Angelot got his singular beauty. His little mother, once upona time, had been the loveliest girl in Brittany. Her small, fine, delicate features, clear dark skin, beautiful velvet eyes and cloud ofdusky hair that curled naturally, --all this still remained, though youthand freshness and early happiness were gone. Her cheeks were thin, hereyes and mouth were sad, and yet there was hardly a grey hair in thatsoft mass which she covered and hid so puritanically. She had beenmarried as almost a child, and was still under forty. Her family, veryold but very poor, had married her to Urbain de la Marinière, quitewithout consulting any wishes of hers. He was well off and wellconnected, though his old name had never belonged exactly to the _grandenoblesse_. The Pontvieux were too anxious to dispose of their daughterto consider his free opinions, which, after all, were the fashion inFrance before 1789, though never in Brittany. And probably Madame de laMarinière's life was saved by her marriage, for she was and remainedjust as ardently Catholic and Royalist as her relations who died one byone upon the scaffold. She lived at La Marinière through the Revolution, in outward obedienceto a husband whose opinions she detested, and most of whose actions shecordially disapproved, though it was impossible not to love himpersonally. Gratitude, too, there might very well have been; forUrbain's popularity had not only guarded his wife and son; it hadenabled her to keep the old Curé of the village safe at La Marinièretill some little liberty was restored to the Church and he was able toreturn to his post without danger. When madame used hard words of theEmpire--and she was frank in her judgments--monsieur would point to theCuré with a smile. And the old man, come back from mass to breakfast atthe manor, and resting in the chimney corner, would say, "Not sobad--not so bad!" rubbing his thin hands gently. "Little mother!" Angelot said, and stepped up into the porch among thechickens. His eyes, quick to read her face, saw a shadow on it, and he wonderedwho had done wrong, himself or his father. "Enfin, te voilà!" said Madame de la Marinière. "Have you brought usany game? Ah, I am glad--" as he showed her his well-filled bag. "Yourfather came home two hours ago; he expected to find you here; he wantedyou to do some service or other for these cousins. " "I am sorry, " said Angelot. "I could not leave Uncle Joseph. I have ahundred things to tell you. Some rather serious, and some will make youdie of laughing, as they did me. " "Mon Dieu! I should be glad to laugh, " said his mother. Angelot had taken the basket from her hand, and was throwing thechickens their last grain. She stood on the highest step, with a littlesigh which might have been of fatigue or of disgust, and her eyes, asshe gazed across the valley, were half angry, half melancholy. The sunhad gone down behind the opposite hills, and the broad front of theChâteau de Lancilly, in full view of La Marinière, looked grey and coldagainst the woods, even in the warm twilight of that rosy evening. "Strange, that it should be inhabited again!" Angelot had emptied thebasket, and stood beside his mother; the chickens bustled and scrambledabout the foot of the steps. "Yes, and as I hear, by all the perfections, " said Madame de laMarinière. "Hervé de Sainfoy is more friendly than ever--and well he maybe--his wife is supremely pretty and agreeable, his younger girls aremost amiable, and as for Hélène, nothing so enchantingly beautiful hasever set foot in Anjou. Take care, my poor Ange, I beseech you. " Angelot laughed. "Then I suppose my father's next duty will be to find ahusband for her. I hear she is difficult--or her parents for her, perhaps. " "Who told you so?" "Monsieur de Mauves. " "What? the Prefect?" "Yes. He sent his respectful compliments to you. I have been spendingthe day at Les Chouettes with him and the new General. He--oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" Angelot burst into a violent fit of laughing, and leaned, almosthelpless, against a pillar of the porch. "Are you mad?" said his mother. "Ah--" he struggled to say--"if only you had seen the cows--ourcows--and the General in the air--oh!" A faint smile dawned in the depths of her eyes. "You have certainly lostyour senses, " she said, and slipped her hand into his arm. "Come downinto the garden: I like it in the twilight--and that pile of stones overthere will not weigh upon our eyes; the trees hide it. Come, my Ange:tell me all your news, serious and laughable. I am glad you were helpingyour uncle; but I do not like you to be away all day. " "I could not help it, mother, " Angelot said. "Yes; I have indeed a greatdeal to tell you. " They strolled down together into the garden, where the vivid after-glowflushed all the flowers with rose. His mother leaned upon his arm, andthey paced along by the tall box hedges. The serious part of the storywas long, and interested her far more than the General's comicadventure, at which Angelot could only make her smile, though thetelling of it sent him off into another fit of laughter. "Poor Monsieur de Mauves, to go about with such a strange animal!" shesaid. "As for you, my child, you grow more childish every day. When willyou be a man? Now be serious, for I hear your father coming. " CHAPTER VI HOW LA BELLE HÉLÈNE TOOK AN EVENING WALK Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière was always amiable and indulgent. He didnot reproach his son for his long absence or ask him to give any accountof himself; not, that is, till he had talked to his heart's content, allthrough the evening meal, of the coming of the Sainfoys, theiradventures by the way, their impressions on arrival. He was glad, on the whole, that he had not organised any publicreception. Hervé had decided against it, fearing some jarring noteswhich might prejudice his wife against the place and the country. As itwas, she was fairly well pleased. A few old people in the village hadcome out of their doors to wave a welcome as the carriages passed;groups of children had thrown flowers; the servants, some sent on fromParis, others hired by Urbain in the neighbourhood, had stood in linesat the entrance. Urbain himself had met them at the door. The Sainfoys, very tired, of course, after their many hours of rough driving, weredelighted to find themselves at last within the old walls, desertedtwenty years ago. Only the son, now fighting in Spain, had been born atLancilly; the three girls were children of emigration, of a foreignland. The excellent Urbain had indeed some charitable work to pride himselfupon. Even he himself hardly knew how it had all been managed: thekeeping of the château and its archives, the recovery of alienatedlands, so that the spending of money in repairing and beautifying wasall that was needed to set Lancilly in its place again as one of thechief country houses of Anjou, a centre of society. Urbain had workedfor his cousin all these twenty years, quietly and perseveringly. Tolook at his happy face now, it would seem that he had gained his heart'sdesire, and that his cousin's gratitude would suffice him for the restof his life. His eyes were wet as he looked at his wife and said: "Therewas only one thing lacking--I knew it would be so. If only you andJoseph had gone with me to welcome them! I never felt so insignificantas when I went out alone from that doorway to help my cousins out of thecoach. And I saw her look round--Adélaïde--she was surprised, I know, tofind me alone. " "Did she ask for me--or for Joseph?" said Madame de la Marinière, in herdry little voice. "Not at the moment--no--afterwards, of course. She has charming manners. And she looks so young. It is really hard to believe that she has a sonof twenty-two. My dear old Hervé looks much older. His hair is grey. Hehas quite left off powder; nearly everybody has, I suppose. I wish youhad been there! But you will go to-morrow, will you not?" "Whenever you please, " said Madame de la Marinière. "In my opinion, allow me to say, it was much better that I should not be there to-day. You had done everything; all the credit was yours. Madame de Sainfoy, tired and nervous, no doubt, --what could she have done with anunsympathetic old distant cousin, except wish heartily for her absence?No, no, I did not love Adélaïde twenty years ago. I thought her worldlyand ambitious then--what should I think her now! I will be civil foryour sake, of course, --but my dear Urbain, what have I to do withemigrants who have changed their flag, and have come back false to theirold convictions? No--my place is not at Lancilly. Nor is Joseph's--and Ihardly believe we should be welcome there. " "My dear, all this is politics!" cried Monsieur Urbain, flourishing hishands in the air. "It is agreed, it is our convention, yours and mine, that we never mention politics. It must be the same between you and ourcousins. What does it matter, after all? You live under the Empire, youobey the laws as much as they do. Why should any of us spoil society bywaving our private opinions. It is not philosophical, really it is not. " "I did not suppose it was, " she said. "I leave philosophy to you, mydear friend. " She shrugged her shoulders and looked at Angelot, who was sitting insilence, watching his father with the rather puzzled and qualifiedadmiration that he usually felt for him. This admiration was not unmixedwith fear, for Urbain, so sweet and so clever, could be very stern; itwas an iron will that had carried him through the past twenty years. Orrather, perhaps, a will of the finest steel, a character that had amarvellous faculty for bending without being broken. "And you--" said Monsieur Urbain to his son--"you had a long day's sportwith the uncle. Did you get a good bag?" Angelot told him. "But that was only by myself till breakfast time, " hesaid. "Since then I have been helping my uncle in other ways. I amafraid you wanted me, monsieur, but it was an important matter, and Icould not leave him. " "Ah! Well, the other was not a very important matter--at least, I foundanother messenger who did as well. It was to ride to Sonnay, to tell the_coiffeur_ there to come to Lancilly early to-morrow. Madame deSainfoy's favourite maid was ill, and stayed behind in Paris. No oneelse can dress her hair. It was she herself who remembered the oldhairdresser at Sonnay, a true artist of the old kind. I had a strongimpression that he--well, that he died unfortunately in those unhappydays--you understand--but she thought he had even then a son growing upto succeed him, and it seemed worth while to send to enquire. " Angelot smiled; his mother frowned. "I am glad you were not here!" shemurmured under her breath. Later on they were sitting in the curious, gloomy old room which didduty for salon and library at La Marinière. Nothing here of the simple, cheerful, though old-time grace of Les Chouettes. Louis Quatorze chairs, with old worked seats, stood in a solemn row on the smooth stone floor;the walls were hung with ancient tapestry, utterly out of date and outof fashion now. A large bookcase rose from the floor to the dark paintedbeams of the ceiling, at one end of the room. It contained many bookswhich Madame de la Marinière would gladly have burnt on the broadhearth, under her beautiful white stone chimney-piece--itself out ofdate, old and monstrous in the eyes of the Empire. But Madame de laMarinière was obliged to live with her husband's literary admirations, as well as with his political opinions, so Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot, Helvétius, with many earlier and healthier geniuses, such as Montaigne, looked down in handsomely gilt bindings from the upper shelves. High upthey were: there was a concession. In the lower shelves lived Bousset, and other Catholic writers; the modern spirit in religion beingrepresented by Chateaubriand's five volumes of _Le Géne duChristianisme_ and two volumes of _Les Martyrs_. Corneille and Racine, among poets, had the honour of accessibility. When Monsieur Urbainwanted one of his own books, he had to fetch a little ladder from acupboard in the hall. Angelot, from a child, was forbidden to use thatladder. The prohibition was hardly necessary. Angelot seldom opened abook at all, or read for more than five minutes at a time. He followedhis uncle in this, as in so much else. The moors, the woods, theriverside, were monsieur Joseph's library: as to literal books, he hadnone but a few volumes on sport and on military history. In this old room Madame de la Marinière would sit all the evening long, working at her tapestry frame; Urbain would read, sometimes aloud;Angelot would draw, or make flies and fishing tackle. On this specialevening the little lady sat down to her frame--she was making new seatsin cross-stitch for the old chairs against the wall. Two candles, whichlighted the room very dimly, and a tall glass full of late roses, stoodon a solid oak table close to her chair. She made a charming picture as she sat there, seemingly absorbed in herwork, yet glancing up every instant to listen to the talk of the twomen. Angelot was giving his father an account of the day's adventures, and Monsieur Urbain was as much annoyed as his easy-going temper wouldallow. "Is he not mad and bad, that brother of mine!" he cried. "But what wasit all about? What were they plotting and planning, these foolish men?Why could he not have two more places laid at table and entertain thewhole party together? That would have been the clever thing to do. ThePrefect has nothing special against any of those gentlemen--or had not, before this. What were they plotting, Angelot?" Angelot knew nothing about that. He thought their consciences were bad, from the readiness with which they scuttled off into the woods. And fromthings they said as they went, he thought they and the imperial officerswere best apart. The Messieurs d'Ombré especially, from their talk, would have been dangerous companions at table. Pistols, prisons, ageneral insurrection and so forth. "My poor brother will be punished enough, " said Urbain, "if he has tospend his time in Purgatory with these d'Ombrés. " He glanced at his wife, who did not like such allusions as this; but shebent over her frame and said nothing. "Go on, tell me all, " he said to his son. Angelot told him the whole story. He was an emotional person, with astrong sense of humour. The Prefect's generosity brought tears into hiseyes; the General's adventure made him laugh heartily, but he was soongrave again. "I have not seen General Ratoneau, " he said. "But I have heard that heis a very revengeful man, and I am sorry you should have offended him, my boy. " "He offended me!" said Angelot, laughing. "I tried to save him; he sworeat me and would not be saved. Then he tried to strike me and I would notbe struck. And it was I who pulled him out of the bushes, and a clumsylump he was, too. I assure you, father, the debt is on his side, notmine. One of these days he shall pay it, if I live. " "Nonsense! forget all about it as soon as you can, " said his father. "Asto his language, that was natural to a soldier. Another time, leave asoldier to fight his own battles, even with a herd of cows. To runbetween a soldier and his enemy is like interfering between husband andwife, or putting your hand between the bark and the tree. Never do itagain. " "You do not practise what you preach, " said Madame de la Marinière, while Angelot looked a little crestfallen. "I wonder who has run betweenmore adversaries than yourself, in the last few years!" "My dear friend, I never yet differed with an imperial officer, orpresumed to know better than my superiors, even on Angevin countrysubjects, " said her husband, smiling. "Ah!" she sighed. Her brows wrinkled up a little, and there was a touchof scorn in the pretty lines of her mouth. "Ah! Ange and I will neverreach your philosopher's level, " she said. "I wish--I wish--" Monsieur Urbain muttered, pacing up and down, "thatJoseph would grow a little wiser as he grows older. The Prefect isexcellent--if it were only the Prefect--but the fellows who were withhim--yes, it would be disagreeable to feel that there was a string roundJoseph's neck and that the police held the end of it. A secret meetingto-day--at Joseph's house--and Joseph's and Angelot's the only namesknown!" "Ange was not at the meeting!" cried Madame de la Marinière. "I know--but who will believe that?" Angelot was a little impressed. He had very seldom seen his father, sohopeful, so even-tempered, with a cloud of anxiety on his face. The veryrarity of such uneasiness made it catching. A sort of apprehensive chillseemed to creep from the corners of the dark old room, steal along bythe shuttered windows, hover about the gaping cavern of the hearth. Itbecame an air, breathing through the room in the motionless Septembernight, so that the candle-flames on madame's table bent and flickeredsuddenly. Then the dogs out in the yard began to bark. "They are barking at the moon, " said Monsieur Urbain. "No, at somebodypassing by. " "Somebody is coming in, father, " said Angelot, "I hear footsteps in thecourt--they are on the steps--in the porch. Shall I see who it is?" "Do, my boy. " The mother turned pale, half rose, as if to stop him. "Not the police!"were the words on her lips; but her husband's calmness reassured her. Angelot went out into the hall, and reached the house-door just assomebody outside began to knock upon it. He opened it, and saw twofigures standing in the half-darkness: for the moon was not yet veryhigh, and while she bathed all the valley in golden light, makingLancilly's walls and windows shine with a fairy beauty, the house at LaMarinière still cast a broad shadow. The figures were of a man and awoman, strangers to Angelot; he, standing in the dark doorway, wasequally strange to them and only dimly visible. The stranger lifted hishand courteously to his hat, and there was a touch of hesitation in hisvery musical voice, as if--which was the fact--he did not know to whomhe was speaking. "Madame de la Marinière is at home? She receives this evening?" "Certainly, monsieur, " said Angelot. "One moment, and I will fetch alight--madame--" and he bowed low to the stranger's companion. "What? Are you Angelot? Shake hands: there is light enough for that, "said the visitor with sudden friendliness. "Let me present you to mydaughter Hélène--your cousin, in fact. " The slender, silent girl who stood by Monsieur de Sainfoy might havebeen pretty or ugly--there was no light to show--but Angelot seemed toknow by instinct at once all that he was to discover afterwards. Hebowed again, and kissed Hélène's glove, and felt a most unreasonabledizziness, a wildfire rushing through his young veins; all this for thefirst time in his boyish life and from no greater apparent cause thanthe sweetness of her voice when she said, "Bonjour, mon cousin!" Then, before he could turn round, his father was there, carrying one ofthe heavy candlesticks, and all the porch was full of light and ofcheerful voices. "I am triumphant, " cried the Comte de Sainfoy. "My wife said I could notfind my way. I felt sure I had not forgotten boyish days so completely, and Hélène was ready to trust herself to me, and glad to wait uponmadame her cousin. " "She is most welcome--you are both most welcome, " the beaming master ofthe house assured him. "Come in, dear neighbours, I beg. What happiness!What an end to all this weary time! If a few things in life weredifferent, I could say I had nothing left to wish for. " "A few things? Can we supply them, dear Urbain?" said the Comte, affectionately. "No, Hervé, no. They do not concern you, my beloved friend. On your sideall is perfection. But alas! you are not everybody, or everywhere. Nevermind! This is a joy, an honour, indeed, to make one forget one'stroubles. " Angelot had taken the candlestick from his father as they crossed thehall. He carried it in before the party and set it down in its place, then stepped back into the shadow while Monsieur Urbain brought them in, and his mother, still pale, and a little shy or stiff in manner, wentforward to receive them. "After twenty years!" The Comte de Sainfoy bowed low over the small handthat lay in his, thin, delicate, if not so white and soft as a courtlady's hand. His lips touched it lightly; he straightened himself, andlooked smiling into her face. He had always admired Anne de Pontvieux. He might himself have thought of marrying her, in those last days of oldFrance, from which so great a gulf now parted them, if her family hadbeen richer and more before the world. As a young man, he had beensurprised at Urbain's good fortune, and slightly envious of it. "Utterly unchanged, belle cousine!" he said. "What does he mean, thatdiscontented man, by finding his lot anything short of perfection! Hereyou have lived, you and he, in that quietest place that exists in thevery heart of the storm. Both of you have kept your youth, yourfreshness, while as for me, wanderings and anxieties have turned me asgrey as a badger. " "Your wife is still young and beautiful, I hear, " said Madame de laMarinière. "And your hair, cousin, is the only thing that proves youmore than twenty. At any rate, you have not lost a young man's geniusfor paying compliments. " "My compliments are simple truth, as they always were, even before Ilived in more plain-spoken countries than this, " said the Comte. "Andnow let me ask your kindness for this little eldest girl of mine--theeldest child that I have here--you know Georges is with the army. " "I know, " said Madame de la Marinière. Her look had softened, though it was still grave and a little distant. It was with a manner perfectly courteous, but not in the leastaffectionate, that she drew Hélène towards her and kissed her on thecheek. "She is more like you than her mother, " she said. "I am charmedto make your acquaintance, my dear. " Words, words! Angelot knew his mother, and knew that whatever prettyspeeches politeness might claim, she did not, and never could rejoice inthe return of the cousins to Lancilly. But it amused and astonished himto notice the Comte's manner to his mother. Did it please her? hewondered. Gratitude to his father was right and necessary, but did shecare for these airs of past and present devotion to herself, on the partof a man who had outraged all her notions of loyalty? It began to dawnon Angelot that he knew little of the world and its ways. Standing in the background, he watched those four, and a moreinteresting five minutes he had never yet known. These were shadowsbecome real: politics, family and national, turned into persons. There stood his father beside the man to whose advantage he had devotedhis life; whom he had loved as that kind of friend who sticks closerthan a brother, almost with the adoration of a faithful dog, ever sincethe boys of the castle and of the old manor played together about thewoods of La Marinière and Lancilly. They were a contrast, those two. Urbain was short and broad, with quickeyes, a clever brow, a strong, good-tempered mouth and chin. He wasugly, and far from distinguished: Joseph had carried off the good looksand left the brains for him. Hervé de Sainfoy was tall, slight, elegant;his face was handsome, fair, and sleepy, the lower part weak andirresolute. A beard, if fashion had allowed it, would have become himwell. His expression was amiable, his smile charming, with a shade ofconscious superiority. But Angelot understood, when he remembered it, the Prefect's remark thatthe Emperor found Monsieur de Sainfoy "a little half-hearted. " However, from that evening, Angelot ceased to think of Monsieur deSainfoy as the unknown cousin, his father's friend, the master ofLancilly; he was Hélène's father, and thus to be, next to herself, themost important personage in poor Angelot's world. For it is not to beimagined that those few minutes, or even one of them, were spent innoting the contrast between the cousins, or in considering the Comte'smanner to Madame de la Marinière, and hers to him. There in the light ofthe candles, curtseying to the unknown cousin with a simple reverence, accepting her kiss with a faint smile of pleasure, stood the loveliestwoman that young Angelot had ever seen, ever dreamed of--if his dreamshad been occupied with such matters at all! Hélène was taller thanFrench women generally; taller than his mother, very nearly as tall ashimself. She was like a lily, he thought; one of those white lilies thatgrew in the broad border under the box hedge, and with which his motherdecked the Virgin's altar, not listening at all to the poor old Curéwhen he complained that the scent made his head ache. Hélène had thrownoff the hooded cloak that covered her white gown; the lovely masses offair hair seemed almost too heavy for her small, bent head. "No wonder they wanted a _coiffeur_! Oh, why was I not here to fetchhim!" thought Angelot. The beauty of whiteness of skin and perfect regularity of feature issometimes a little cold; but Hélène was flushed with her walk in thewarm night, her lips were scarlet; and if her grey eyes were strangelysad and wistful, they were also so beautiful in size, shape, andexpression that Angelot felt he could gaze for ever and desire nochange. He started and blushed when his own name roused him from staringbreathlessly at Mademoiselle Hélène, who since the lights came hadgiven him one or two curious, half-veiled glances. "And now let me congratulate you on this fine young man, " said Monsieurde Sainfoy in his pleasant voice. "The age of my Georges, is he not?Yes, I remember his christening. His first name was Ange--I thought it alittle confiding, you know, but no doubt it is justified. I forgot therest--and I do not know why you have turned him into Angelot?" Madame de la Marinière smiled; this was a way to her heart. "Yes, it is justified, " she said proudly. "Ange-Marie-Joseph-Urbain ishis name. As to the nickname, it is something literary. I refer you tohis father. " "It is a name to keep him true to his province, " said Monsieur Urbain. "Read Ronsard, my friend. It was the name he gave to Henry, Duc d'Anjou. But I must fetch the book, and read you the pretty pastoral. " "My dear friend, you must excuse me. I am perfectly satisfied. A verygood name, Angelot! But to read or listen to that ancient poetry beforethe flood--" They all laughed. "What a wonderful man he is!" said the Comte to MadameUrbain. "As poetical as he is practical. " It all seemed pleasant trifling, then and for the rest of the evening. The young countryman of Ronsard's naming was rather silent and shy, andthe Comte's daughter had not much to say; the elders talked for thewhole party. This, they thought, was quite as it should be. But the boy who had said that morning, "Young girls are hardlycompanions for me, " and had talked lightly of his father's finding ahusband for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy, lay down that night with a girl'sface reigning in his dreams; and went so far as to tell himself that itwas for good or evil, for time and for eternity. CHAPTER VII THE SLEEP OF MADEMOISELLE MOINEAU "We must make the best of it, " said Madame de Sainfoy. "To be practicalis the great thing. I know you agree with me. " She had a dazzling smile, utterly without sweetness. Madame de laMarinière said it was like the flashing of sunbeams on ice; but it had amuch more warming and inspiring effect on Urbain. "It is one of the few consolations in life, " he said, "to meet withsupreme good sense like yours. " They were standing together in one of the deep windows of the Château deLancilly; a window which looked out to the garden front towards thevalley and La Marinière. A deep dry moat surrounded the great house onall sides; here, as on the other front, where there were wings and acourtyard, it was approached by a stiff avenue, a terrace, and a bridge. But this ancient and gloomy state of things could not be allowed tocontinue. An army of peasants was hard at work filling up the moat, laying out winding paths in the park, making preparations for the"English garden" of a thousand meaningless twists leading to nowhere, which was the Empire's idea of beauty. Monsieur and Madame de Sainfoywould have no rest till their stately old château was framed in thiskind of landscape gardening, utterly out of character with it. It wasonly Monsieur Urbain's experience which had saved trees from being cutdown in full leaf, to let in points of view, and had delayed theplanting in hot September weather of a whole forest of shrubs on thesloping bank, where the moat had once been. The interior of the house, too, was undergoing a great reformation. Madame de Sainfoy had sent down a quantity of modern furniture fromParis, the arrangement of which had caused the worthy Urbain a good dealof perplexity. He had prided himself on preserving many ancientsplendours of Louis XIV, XV, XVI, not from any love for these relics ofa former society, but because good taste and sentiment alike showed himhow entirely they belonged to these old rooms and halls, where theponderous, carved chimney-pieces rose from floor to painted ceiling, blazoned with arms which not even the Revolution had cut away. ButMadame de Sainfoy's idea was to sweep everything off: the tapestries, which she considered grotesque and hideous, from the walls; the rows ofsolemn old chairs and sofas, the large screens and heavy oak tables, theiron dogs from the fireplace, on which so many winter logs had flamedand died down into a heap of grey ashes. All must go, and the oldsaloon must be made into a modern drawing-room of the Empire. Madame de la Marinière, being old-fashioned and prejudiced, resentedthese changes, which seemed to her both monstrous and ungrateful. Shewas angry with her husband for the angelic patience with which he borethem, throwing himself with undimmed enthusiasm into the carrying out ofevery wish, every new-fangled fancy, that Hervé and Adélaïde de Sainfoyhad brought from Paris with them. If he was disappointed at the bundlingoff into garret and cellar of so much of Lancilly's old and hardly-keptglory, he only showed it by a shrug and a smile. "If one does not know, one must be content to learn, " he said. "A modernfish wants a modern shell, my dear Anne. I may have been foolish toforget it. The atmosphere that you enjoy gives Adélaïde the blues. Come, I will quote Scripture. 'New wine must be put into new bottles. '" "Then, on the whole, it was a pity Lancilly was not burnt down, " saidhis wife. "Ah, Lancilly! Lancilly will see a few more fashions yet, " he said. And now he stood, quite happy and serene, in the cold sunshine ofAdélaïde's smile, and together they watched the earthworks risingoutside, and he agreed with her as to the necessity of being modern ineverything, of marching with one's time, regretting nothing, using thepresent and making the best of it. She was utterly materialist andbaldly practical. Her manners were frank and simple, she had suffered, she had studied the world and knew it, and used it without a scruple forher own advantage. The time and the court of Napoleon knew such womenwell: they had the fearless dignity of high rank, holding their own, inspite of all the Emperor's vulgarity; and the losses and struggles oftheir lives had given them a hard eye for the main chance, scarcely tobe matched by any _bourgeois_ shopkeeper. And with all this they had areal admiration for military glory. Success, in fact, was their God andtheir King. Far down below in the park, within sight of the windows, Monsieur deSainfoy was strolling about, watching the workmen, and talking to themwith the pleasant grace which always made him popular. With him wasyoung Angelot, who had walked across with his father on that and severalother mornings. It seemed as if Uncle Joseph and Les Chouettes had losta little of their attraction, since Lancilly was inhabited. Angelotbrought his gun, and Cousin Hervé, when he had time and energy, tookhis, and they had an hour or two's sport round about the woods andmarshes and meadows of Lancilly. Once or twice Monsieur de Sainfoybrought the young man in to breakfast; his father was often there, inattendance on the Comtesse and her alterations. She took very littlenotice of Angelot, beyond a smile when he kissed her hand. He was of noparticular use, and did not interest her; she was not fond of hismother, and thought him like her; it was not worth while to be kind tohim for the sake of his father, whose devotion did not depend, she knew, on any such attentions. Angelot was rather awed by her coldness, though he said nothing aboutit, even to his mother. And after all, he did not go to Lancilly to beentertained by Madame de Sainfoy. He went for the sake of a look, apossible word, or even a distant sight of the girl whose lovely face andsad eyes troubled him sleeping and waking, whose presence drew him withstrong cords across the valley and made the smallest excuse a goodreason for following his father to Lancilly. But he never spoke toHélène, except formally and in public, till that day when he lingeredabout with his cousin in the park, watching the men as they dug thepaths for the English garden, while Madame de Sainfoy and MonsieurUrbain talked good sense high up in the window. Presently two figures approached the new garden, crossing the park fromthe old avenue, and Monsieur de Sainfoy went to meet them with an air ofcordial welcome. "Who are those people?" said the Comtesse, putting up her eyeglass. "It is my brother Joseph and his little daughter, " Urbain answered. "Hehas his gun, I see, as usual. I suppose he was shooting in thisdirection. " "Does he take the child out shooting with him? He is certainly veryeccentric. " Urbain shrugged his shoulders. "Poor dear Joseph! A little, perhaps. Yes, he is unlike other people. To tell you the truth, I am only tooglad when his odd fancies spend themselves on the management ofHenriette. " "Or mis-management! He will ruin the child. He brought her here theother day, and she appeared to me quite savage. " "Really, madame! Poor Henriette! She is a sociable child and clever, too. My wife and Angelot are very fond of her. I think she must havebeen shy in your presence. " "Oh, not at all. She talked to Hervé like a grown-up woman. I wasamused. When I say 'savage, ' I mean that she had evidently been in nosociety, and had not the faintest idea how a young person of her age isexpected to behave. She was far more at her ease than Hélène, forinstance. " "Ah, dear madame! there is something pleasing, is there not, in such afrank trust in human nature! The child is very like her father. " "Those manners may be pretty in a child of six, " said Madame de Sainfoy, "but they are quite out of place in a girl of her age--how old is she?" "I don't exactly know. Twelve or thirteen, I think. " "Then there is still some hope for her. She may be polished into shape. I shall suggest to your brother that she come here every day to takelessons with Sophie and Lucie. I dare say she is very ignorant. " "I am afraid she is. What a charming idea! How like your kindness! Mybrother will certainly accept your offer with enthusiasm. I shall insistupon it. " "He will, if he is a wise man, " said Madame de Sainfoy. They bothlaughed: evidently the wisdom of Monsieur Joseph was not proverbial inthe family. "Mademoiselle Moineau is an excellent governess, though sheis growing old, " she went on. "I have known her make civilised women outof the most unpromising material. I shall tell your brother that Iconsider it settled. It will be good for Sophie and Lucie, too, to havethe stimulus of a companion. " "You are not afraid that--You know my brother's very strong opinions?" "Do you think a child of twelve is likely to make converts?" she said, with an amused smile. "No, cousin. The influence will be the other way, but your brother will not be foolish enough, I hope, to consider that adanger. " Urbain shook his head gently: he would answer for nothing. He murmured, "A charming plan! The best thing that could happen to the child. " "A pity, too, " said Madame de Sainfoy, looking out of the window, "thatshe should grow up without any young companions but your son. Where arethey going now?" "I don't know, " said Urbain. For a moment they watched silently, while Angelot and Henriette left theothers in the garden, and walked away together, turning towards thechâteau, and then disappearing behind a clump of trees. "I know, " said the Comtesse. "I told Hervé something of this plan ofmine, and he approved highly: he has an old family affection for yourbrother. He is sending the young people to find Sophie and Lucie; theyare out walking in the wood with Mademoiselle--Hélène is reading Italianin her own room. " She seemed to add this as an after-thought, and the faintest smilecurled Monsieur Urbain's lips as he heard her. "No danger, dearComtesse, " he felt inclined to say. "My boy's heart is in the woods andfields--and he is discreet, too. You might even trust him for fiveminutes with that beautiful, silent girl of yours. " Had Madame de Sainfoy made some miscalculation as to her daughter'shours of study? or was it Hélène's own mistake? or had the sunshine andthe waving woods, the barking of dogs, the chattering of workmen, allthe flood of new life outside old Lancilly, made it impossible to sitreading in a chilly, thick-walled room and tempted the girl irresistiblyto break her mother's strict rules. However it may have happened--whenAngelot and Riette, laughing and talking, entered the wood beyond thechâteau, not only square Sophie and tall Lucie and their fat littlegoverness, but Mademoiselle Hélène herself, were found wandering alongthe soft path, through the glimmering maze of green flicked with gold. Sophie and Lucie were good-natured girls, enchanted to see the newlittle cousin. They admired her dark eyes, the delicate smallness of herframe, a contrast with their own more solid fairness. In their family, Hélène had taken all the beauty; there was not much left for them, butthey were honest girls and knew how to admire. Riette on her side, untroubled with any shyness or self-consciousness, quite innocent of thefacts that her dress was old-fashioned and her education more thandefective, was delighted to improve her acquaintance with the newcousins. She could tell them a thousand things they did not know. Tobegin with, Lancilly itself, the woods, the walled gardens and courts, even the staircases and galleries of the house--all was more familiar toher than to them. She and Angelot had found Lancilly a splendidplayground, ever since she was old enough to walk so far; they had spentmany happy hours there in digging out rabbits, catching rats, birds-nesting, playing _cache-cache_, and other charming employments. She enlarged on these in the astonished ears of Sophie and Lucie, walking between them with linked arms, pulling them on with a dancingstep, while they listened, fascinated, to the gay little spirit who ledthem where she pleased. It did not seem so certain, to look at the threeyoung girls, that Madame de Sainfoy was right as to influence. But nopolitical talk, no party secrets, escaped from the loyal lips of Riette. A word of warning from Angelot--a word which her father would not havedreamed of saying--had closed her mouth on subjects such as these. Shecould be friendly with her cousins, yet true to her father's friends. "Let us go to the great garden, " she said. "Have you seen the sundial, and the fish-ponds? You don't know the way? Ah, my dear children, butwhat discoveries you are going to make!" "Sophie--Lucie--where are you going? Come back, come back!" criedMademoiselle Moineau, who was pacing slowly behind with Angelot andHélène. But Sophie and Lucie could not stop if they wished it; an impetuouslittle whirlwind was carrying them along. "To the garden--to the garden!" they called out as they fled. Mademoiselle Moineau was distracted. She was fat, she was no longeryoung; she could not race after the rebellious children; and even if shecould, it was impossible to leave Hélène and Angelot alone in the wood. "Where are they going?" she said helplessly to the young man. He explained amiably that they were perfectly safe with his littlecousin, who knew every corner of the place, and while MademoiselleMoineau groaned, and begged that he would show her the way to thegarden, he ventured a look and smile at Hélène. A sudden brightness cameinto her face, and she laughed softly. "Henriette might be your littlesister, " she said. "You are all alike, I think--at least monsieur youruncle, and madame your mother, and Henriette, and you--" "Yes--I've often thought Uncle Joseph ought to be my mother's brother, not my father's, " said Angelot. He dared not trust himself to look very hard at Hélène. He kept hislightness of tone and manner, the friendly ease which was natural tohim, though his pulses were beating hard from her nearness, and thoughher gentle air of intimacy gave him almost a pang of passionate joy. Howsweet she was, how simple, when for a moment she forgot the mysterioussadness which seemed sometimes to veil her whole nature! Angelot knewthat she liked and trusted him, the strange young country cousin wholooked younger than he was. She thought him a friendly boy, perhaps. Hereyes, when she looked at him, seemed to smile divinely; they were nolonger doubtful and questioning, as at first. He longed to kneel down onthe pine-needles and kiss the hem of her gown; he longed, he, thecareless sportsman, the philosopher's son, to lay his life at her feet, to do what she pleased with. But Mademoiselle Moineau was there. They walked on in the vast old precincts of Lancilly, following thechildren. It was all deep shade, with occasional patches of sunshine;great forest trees, wide-spreading, stretched their arms across sandytracks, once roads, that wandered away at the back of the château:through the leaves they could see mountains of grey moss-stained roofand the peaked top of the old _colombier_. All the yards and buildingswere now between them and the house itself. Along by a crumbling wall, once white, and roofed with tiles, they came to the broken-down gate ofthe garden. It was not much better than a wilderness; yet there wereloaded fruit-trees, peaches, plums, figs, vines weighed down with massesof small sweet grapes, against the ancient trellis of the wall. Everywhere a forest of weeds; the once regular paths covered with burntgrass and stones and rubbish; the fountain choked and dry. Mademoiselle Moineau groaned many times as she hobbled along; thewalking was rough, the way seemed endless, and the garden, when theyreached it, a sun-baked desert. Angelot guided them to the very middle, where the old sundial was, and while he showed it to Hélène, the littlegoverness sat down on a stone bench that encircled a large mulberrytree, the only shady place in the garden. They could hear the children'svoices not far off. Hélène sat down near Mademoiselle Moineau. Angelotwent away and came back with a leaf filled with fruit, to which Hélènehelped herself with a smile. As he was going to hand it to MademoiselleMoineau, she put out a hand to stop him. "She is asleep, " she whispered. It was true. The warmth, the fatigue, the sudden rest and silence, hadbeen too much for the little lady, who was growing old. Her eyes wereshut, her hands were folded, her chin had sunk upon her chest; and evenas Angelot stared in unbelieving joy, a distinct snore set Hélènesuddenly laughing. "I must wake her, " she said softly. "We must go, we must find thechildren. " "Oh no, no!" he murmured. "Let the poor thing rest--see how tired sheis! The children are safe--you can hear them. Do not be so cruel toher--and to me. " "_I_ cruel?" said Hélène; and she added half to herself--"No--otherpeople are cruel--not I. " Angelot did not understand her. She looked up at him rather dreamily, ashe stood before her. Perhaps the gulf of impossibility between them kepther, brought up and strictly sheltered as she had been, from realisingthe meaning of the young man's face. It was very grave; Angelot hadnever before felt so utterly in earnest. His eyes were no longer sleepy, for all the strength of his nature, the new passion that possessed him, was shining in them. It was a beautiful, daring face, so attractive thatHélène gazed for a speechless moment or two before she understood thatthe beauty and life and daring were all for her. Then the pale girlflushed a little and dropped her eyes. She had had compliments enough inParis, had been told of her loveliness, but never with silent speechsuch as this. This conquest, though only of a young cousin, hadsomething different, something new. Hélène, hopeless and tired atnineteen, confessed to herself that this Angelot was adorable. With asort of desperation she gave herself up to the moment's enjoyment, andsaid no more about waking Mademoiselle Moineau, who snored onpeacefully, or about finding the children. She allowed Angelot to sitdown on her other side, and listened to him with a sweet surprise as hemurmured in her ear--"Who is cruel, then, tell me! No, you are not, youare an angel--but who are you thinking of?" "No one in particular, I suppose, " the girl answered. "Life itself iscruel--cruel and sad. You do not find it so?" "Life seems to me the most glorious happiness--at this moment, certainly. " "Ah, you must not say those things. Let us wake Mademoiselle Moineau. " "No, " Angelot said. "Not till you have told me why you find life sad. " "Because I do not see anything bright in it. Books tell one that youthis so happy, so gay--and as for me, ever since I was a child, I have hadnothing but weariness. All that travelling about, that banishment fromone's own country--ill tempers, discontent, narrow ways, hardlessons--straps and backboards because I was not strong--loneliness, nota friend of my own age--and then this horrible Paris--and things thatmight have happened there, if my father had not saved me--" She stopped, with a little catch in her breath, and Angelot understood, rememberingthe Prefect's talk at Les Chouettes, a few days before. This was the girl they talked of sacrificing in a political marriage. "But now that you are here--now that you have come home, you will behappy?" he said, and his voice shook a little. "Perhaps--I hope so. Oh, you must not take me too much in earnest, "Hélène said, and there was an almost imploring look in her eyes. Sheadded quickly--"I hope I shall often see madame your mother. What abeautiful face she has--and I am sure she is good and happy. " This was a fine subject for Angelot. He talked of his mother, herreligion, her charity, her heroism, while Hélène listened and askedchildish questions about the life at La Marinière, to which her eveningvisit had attracted her strangely. And the minutes flew on, and thesetwo cousins forgot the outside world and all its considerations in eachother's eyes, and the shadows lengthened, till at last the children'svoices began to come nearer. Mademoiselle Moineau snored on, it is true, but the enchanting time was coming to an end. "Remember, " Angelot said, "nothing sad or cruel can happen to you anymore. You are in your own country; your own people will take care of youand love you--we are relations, remember--my father and mother and myuncle and Riette--and I, Hélène!" He ended in the lowest whisper, and suddenly his slight brown handsclosed on hers, and his dark face bent over her. "Never--never be sad again! I adore you--my sweet, my beautiful--" Very softly their lips met. Hélène, entirely carried out of herself, lethim hold her for a moment in his arms, then started up with flamingcheeks in consternation, and began to hurry towards the gate. At the same moment the three young girls came down the path towards thesun-dial, and Mademoiselle Moineau, waking with a violent start, got upand hobbled stiffly forward into the sunshine. "Where are you, my children?" she cried. "Sophie, Lucie, it is quitetime to go back to your lessons--see, your sister is gone already. Saygood-by to your cousins, my dears--" [Illustration: SUDDENLY HIS SLIGHT BROWN HANDS CLOSED ON HERS. ] "We may all go back to the château together, madame, may we not?"said Angelot with dancing eyes, and he hurried the children on, allchattering of the wonderful corners and treasures that Henriette hadshown them. But Mademoiselle Hélène flew before like the wind, and was not to beovertaken. In the meanwhile, Madame de Sainfoy consulted Cousin Urbain about hernew silk hangings for the large drawing-room, and also as to a list ofnames for a dinner, at which the chief guests were to be the Baron deMauves, the Prefect of the Department, and Monsieur le Général Ratoneau, commanding the troops in that western district. "And I suppose it is necessary to invite all these excellent cousins?"Madame de Sainfoy asked her husband that evening, when the cousins weregone. "Entirely necessary, my dear Adélaïde!" CHAPTER VIII HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH MET WITH MANY ANNOYANCES Dark clouds were hanging over Les Chouettes. In the afternoon there hadbeen a thunderstorm, with heavy rain which had refreshed the burntslopes and filled the stream that wound through the meadows under thelines of poplars and willows, and set great orange slugs crawling amongthe wet grass. The storm had passed, but the air was heavy, electric, and still. The sun had set gloriously, wildly, like a great fire behindthe woods, and now all the eastern sky was flaming red, as if from astill more tremendous fire somewhere beyond the moors and hills. Two men were sitting on a bench under Monsieur Joseph's south wall;himself and white-haired Joubard, the farmer; before them was a tablewith bottles and glasses. Joubard had been trying a wine that rivalledhis own. Monsieur Joseph had entertained him very kindly, as his waywas; but the shadow of the evening rested on Monsieur Joseph's face. Hewas melancholy and abstracted; he frowned; he even ground his teeth withrestrained irritation. Joubard too looked grave. He had brought awarning which had been lightly taken, he thought; yet looking sidewaysat Monsieur Joseph, he could not help seeing that something, possiblyhis words, was weighing on the little gentleman. There were plenty ofother things to talk about; the farm, the vintage, the war in Spain, thechances of Martin's return, the works at Lancilly. Monsieur Joseph andJoubard were both talkers; they were capable of chattering for hoursabout nothing; but this evening conversation flagged, at least onMonsieur Joseph's side. Perhaps it was the weather. At last the old man was ready to go. He stood up, staring hard atMonsieur Joseph in the twilight. "Monsieur forgives me?" he said. "Perhaps I should have said nothing;the police have their ways. They may ask questions without malice. Andyet one feels the difference between an honest man and a spy. Well, Icould have laughed, if I did not hate the fellow. As if the talk of afew honest gentlemen could hurt the State!" "Some day I hope it will, " said Monsieur Joseph, coolly. "When therising comes, Joubard, you will be on the right side--if only to avengeyour sons, my good man!" Joubard opened his eyes wider, hesitated, pushed his fingers through hisbushy hair. "Me, monsieur! The rising! But, monsieur, I never said I was a Chouan! Iam afraid of some of them, though not of you, monsieur. They are peoplewho can be dangerous. A rising, you said! Then--" "Don't talk of it now, " said Monsieur Joseph, impatiently. As he spoke, little Henriette came round the corner of the house withsome blue feathers in her hand. Tobie had been out shooting, makinghavoc among the wild birds, large and small, and sparing the squirrels, with regret, to please his master. Owls, kites, rooks, magpies, jays, thrushes, finches; those that were eatable went into pies, and theprettiest feathers were dressed and made into plumes for MademoiselleHenriette. She was fond of adorning her straw bonnet with jay'sfeathers, which, as her uncle Urbain remarked, gave her the appearanceof one of Monsieur de Chateaubriand's squaws. "See, papa, what Tobie hasbrought me, " she cried. "Good evening, Maître Joubard! How are yourchickens? and when will the vintage begin?" Joubard would gladly have entered on a lengthy gossip with MademoiselleHenriette, but Monsieur Joseph, with a shortness very unlike him, brought the interview to an end. "You must not keep Maître Joubard now, " he said. "It is late, and hemust get back to the farm. Bonsoir, Joubard. " The farmer waved his large hat. "Bonsoir, la compagnie!" and with asmile departed. As he passed the stables, Tobie, still carrying his gun, slipped out andjoined him. "Anything wrong with the master, Tobie?" said the old man, curiously. "His tongue has an edge to it this evening; he is not like himself. " "I think I know, " said Tobie, and they strolled together up the lane. "Go to bed, my child, " said Monsieur Joseph to his little daughter. "Itis too damp now for you to be out-of-doors. Yes, very pretty feathers. Good night, mon petit chou!" Riette flung herself upon him and hugged him like a young bear. "Ah, " he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "and is this the way tobehave to one's respected father? Do you suppose, now, thatMesdemoiselles de Sainfoy crush their parents to death like this?" "I dare say not, " said Riette, with another hug and a shower of kisses. "But their parents are grand people. They have not a little bijou of apapa like mine. And as for their mamma, she is a cardboard sort ofwoman. " "All that does not matter. Manners should be the same, whether peopleare tall or short, great or humble. You know nothing about it, my poorRiette. " "Nor do you!" "It is becoming plain to me that you must be sent to learn manners. " "Where?" "Go to bed at once. I must think about it. There, child--enough--I amtired this evening. " "Ah, you have had so many visitors to-day, and that old Joubard is achatterbox. " "And he is not the only one in the world. Go--do you hear me?" The child went. He heard her light feet scampering upstairs, clatteringmerrily about on the boards overhead. He sat very still. The glow in theeast deepened, spreading a lurid glory over the dark velvety stillnessof the woods. Crickets sang and curlews cried in the meadow, and thelong ghostly hoot of an owl trembled through the motionless air. Josephde la Marinière leaned his elbows on the table, his chin resting on hishands, and gazed up thus into the wild autumnal sky. "What would become of her!" he said to himself. He was not long alone. Angelot and his dog came lightly up through theshadows, and while the dog strayed off to join his favourites among thedark guards who lay round the house, the young man sat down beside hisuncle. Though with a mind full of his own matters, Angelot was sympatheticenough to feel and to wonder at the little uncle's depression. After aword or two on indifferent things--the storm, the marvellous sky--hesaid to him, "Has anything happened to worry you?" Monsieur Joseph did not answer at once, and this was very unlike him. "It is the thunder, perhaps?" said Angelot, cheerfully. "A tree wasstruck near us. My mother is spending the evening in church. " "And your father?" "He is at Lancilly, playing boston. " "Why are you not with him?" "Why should I be? I--I prefer a talk with my dear uncle. " "Ah! you ask if anything worries me, Angelot. Three or four things. First--I had a visit this morning from César d'Ombré. He had hisbreakfast in peace this time, poor fellow. " Angelot smiled, rather absently. "What had he to say?" "Nothing special. The time is not quite ripe--I think they realised thatthe other day. " "I hope so, " murmured Angelot. "Hope what you please, " said his uncle, with sudden irritation. "Thetime will come in spite of you all, remember. I, for one, shall not longbe able to endure this abominable system of spying. " "What do you mean?" said Angelot, staring at him. "This is what I mean. The instant d'Ombré was gone--while he was here, in fact--that fellow, the Prefect's jackal, was prowling round thestables and asking questions of Tobie. Some silly excuse--pretended hehad lost a strap the other day. Asked which of my friends washere--asked if they often came, if they were generally expected. Suggested that Les Chouettes was well provided with hiding-places, aswell for arms as for men. I don't think he made much out of Tobie; he isas solid as an old oak, with a spark of wit in the middle of his thickhead. From his own account, he very nearly kicked him off the premises. " "What? that man Simon? I don't like him either, but was it not a littledangerous to treat him so? He is more than a gendarme, I think; he is an_agent de police_. " "I don't care what he is, nor does Tobie. He had better come to me withhis impertinent questions. And I am angry with De Mauves. I suppose therascal would not prowl about here without his orders. Of course it washe who found out everything the other day. I did not notice or know himat the time, but the servants tell me he is, as you say, a well-knownpolice spy. Well, after what De Mauves said to you, I should haveexpected him to leave me in peace. I would rather have one thing or theother--be arrested or let alone. I say, this spying system isungentlemanly, ungenerous, and utterly contemptible and abominable. " Monsieur Joseph rapped hard on the table, then took a pinch of snuffwith much energy, folded his arms, and looked fiercely into Angelot'sdowncast face. "I can hardly think the Prefect sent him, " the young man said. "Why should he act without his master's orders? In any case I shall haveit out with De Mauves. Well, well, other annoyances followed, and I hadhalf forgotten the rascal, your father being here, and the rain comingin at the roof and running down the stairs, when behold Joubard, to tellme the story over again!" "What story?" "Mille tonnerres! Angelot, you are very dull to-day. Why, the Simonstory, of course. The fellow paid Joubard a visit on his way to us, itseems, and asked a thousand questions about me and my concerns--whatvisitors of mine passed La Joubardière on their way here, and so forth. He tried to make it all appear friendly gossip, so as to put Joubard offhis guard, though knowing very well that the old man knew who he was. " "Does Joubard think the Prefect sent him?" "I did not consult Joubard on that point, " said Monsieur Joseph withdignity. "That is between De Mauves and myself. " "Oh, my little uncle, " Angelot said with a low laugh, "you are a verygem among conspirators. " "None of you take me in earnest, I know, " said Monsieur Joseph, and hesmiled for the first time. "Your father scolds me, Joubard does not halfbelieve in me, Riette takes liberties with me, you laugh at me. It isonly that scoundrel of a Prefect who thinks me worth watching. " "I don't believe he does, " said Angelot. "Then pray tell me, what brought that police rascal here to-day?" "Some devilry of his own. Don't you know, Uncle Joseph, these fellowsgain credit, and money too, by hunting out cases of disloyalty to theEmpire. It is dirty work; officials like the Prefect do not always careto soil their hands with it. I have heard my father tell of cases wherewhole families were put in prison, just on the evidence of some policespy who wormed himself into their confidence and informed against them. " Monsieur Joseph sat in silence for a minute. "Peste! France is not fit to live in, " he said. "To change thesubject--your excellent father proposed to-day that I should send Rietteevery morning to Lancilly, to learn lessons with Mesdemoiselles deSainfoy. It seems that Madame de Sainfoy herself proposed this obligingplan. The governess, it seems, is a jewel of the first water. Is thatthe lady I saw with the children the other day?" "Yes; Mademoiselle Moineau. " Angelot's breath came a little short; his heart seemed to beatunreasonably in his throat. How could he express with sufficientrestraint his opinion of that sleepy old angel, Mademoiselle Moineau! He felt himself colouring crimson; but it was growing dark, the gorgeoussunset had faded, the clouds hung blacker and heavier as the oppressivenight closed in. "No doubt a charming lady and a very good woman, " said Monsieur Joseph, with his usual politeness, "but she has not the air of a genius. In anycase, even if I saw any advantage for Riette in the plan, which I donot, I am too selfish to consent to it. Well, well, I have otherreasons; I will tell them to your mother one of these days. I am sorryMadame de Sainfoy should have thought of it, as it seems ungracious torefuse. But I was miserable enough without Riette last year, when shespent those weeks at the Convent at Sonnay. By the by, the good nuns didnot find her so ignorant. She knows her religion, she can dance andsing, she can make clothes for the poor, she understands the animals, and has read a little history. Pray what more does a girl want?" "Nothing, I dare say, " said Angelot, dreamily. "I did not think youwould like it. " "I do not like it, " said Monsieur Joseph. "Your father was astonishedwhen I told him so. We did not discuss it long; the storm interruptedus. But how could I let my child be brought up in a household devoted tothe Empire! It is unreasonable. " Angelot started suddenly to his feet. "Are you going? It will rain again soon, " said Monsieur Joseph. "No, I am not going yet, " said Angelot. He marched up and down two or three times in front of the bench. "Uncle Joseph, " he burst out, "I have something to say to you. I camehere to-night on purpose to consult you. You can help me, I think, ifanybody can. " "What, what? Are they sending you into the army?" Monsieur Joseph wasall interest, all affection. His own annoyances were forgotten. Hestarted up too, standing in his most inspired attitude, with a sweetsmile on his face. "Declare yourself, my boy!" he said. "Yes, I willstand by you. You cannot fight for that bloodthirsty wretch. Escape, dearest, if there is nothing else for it. Go and join the Princes. Yourmother will agree with me. I will lend you money for the journey. " "Ah, a thousand thanks, Uncle Joseph!" cried the young man. "But no, itis not that at all. " He lowered his voice suddenly. "I want to marry, "he said. "To marry! Angelot! You! In heaven's name, why?" "Because I am in love. " "What a reason!" Monsieur Joseph sat down again. "This is serious, " he said. "Sit down beside me on the bench, and tellme all about it. It sounds like madness, and I always thought you were areasonable boy. " "It is madness in one way, I suppose, " said Angelot. "And yet strangerthings have happened. In fact, of course, nothing else could happen. " Monsieur Joseph frowned and stared. His quick brain was running roundthe neighbourhood and finding nobody; then it made an excursion atlightning speed into the wilds of Brittany, where Angelot had sometimesvisited his mother's relations; but there again, as far as he knew, nolikely match was to be found. He was sure that Urbain and Anne had notyet taken any steps to find a wife for Angelot; he also thought it was asubject on which they were likely to disagree. And now the young rascalhad hit on somebody for himself. Might Heaven forbid that he hadfollowed modern theories and was ready to marry some woman of a rankinferior to his own--some good-for-nothing who had attracted thehandsome, simple-hearted boy! "No! He would not dare to tell me that, " Monsieur Joseph said tohimself, and added aloud, "Who is the lady?" There was a touch of severity in his tone; a foretaste, even from thedear little uncle, of what was to be expected. "But, dear uncle, " Angelot said slowly, "it could only be one person. " "No--no, impossible!" said Monsieur Joseph, half to himself. "Angelot, my boy--not--not there?" and he waved his hand in the direction ofLancilly. Angelot nodded. "You have seen her, " he murmured; "you ought not to besurprised. You have never seen any one half so beautiful. " Monsieur Joseph laughed outright. "Have I always lived at LesChouettes?" he said. "However, she is a pretty girl, fair, graceful, distinguished. Riette had more to tell me about the younger ones; thatwas only natural. Of course I have only exchanged a compliment withMademoiselle Hélène. She looked to me cold and rather haughty--ormelancholy, perhaps. When have you spoken to her, Angelot? or is itmerely the sight of her which has given you this wild idea?" "Yes, she is melancholy, " Angelot said, "but not cold or haughty at all. She is sad; it is because she is alone, and her mother is hard andstern, though her father is kind, and she has had no peace in life fromall their worldly ways. They wanted to marry her to people shedetested--her mother did, at least--" "Yes, yes, I have heard something of that, " said Monsieur Joseph. "Theyexpect a great deal from her. She is to make an advantageousmarriage--it is necessary for her family. It will happen one of thesedays; it must. My dear little Angelot, you know nothing of theworld--how can you possibly imagine--Besides, I do not care for theSainfoys. " Monsieur Joseph sighed. "I would rather you went to Brittanyfor a wife, and so would your mother. " "But you will help me, Uncle Joseph?" said Angelot. "Help you! How can I? Anyhow, you must tell me more. How did you findout all this? When did those people give you an opportunity of speakingto her? From their own point of view, they are certainly very imprudent. But I suppose they think you harmless. " It is unpleasant to be thought harmless. Angelot blushed angrily. "They may find themselves mistaken, " he muttered. "I will tell you, Uncle Joseph;" and he went on to give a slight sketch of what hadhappened. It seemed necessary to convince his uncle that he was not talkingnonsense, that the fates had really allowed him a few minutes' talk withHélène. He could only give half an explanation, after all; the oldmulberry tree had been the only witness of what was too sacred to betold. He said that Mademoiselle Moineau's fortunate nap had given themtime to understand each other. "And this is the fine governess to whom they expect me to confide myRiette!" said Monsieur Joseph, laughing; but he became serious againdirectly. "And in this interview under the tree, my poor Angelot, " hesaid very gravely, "you made up your mind to propose yourself as ahusband for Mademoiselle Hélène?" "It sounds solemn, Uncle Joseph, when you say it. But yes, I suppose youare right, " said Angelot. "It _is_ solemn. Most solemn and serious. Something more than aflirtation, an amourette. For life, as I understand you. A real marriageà l'Anglais, " said Monsieur Joseph. For answer, Angelot raved a little. His uncle listened indulgently, witha charming smile, to all the pretty lunacies of the young man's firstlove, poured into an ear and a heart that would never betray ormisunderstand him. "And did you tell Mademoiselle Hélène all this? Did you ask her what shethought of you?" Monsieur Joseph said at last. "She knows enough, and so do I, " said Angelot. It seemed like sacrilege to say more; but as his uncle waited, he addedhastily--"She is sad, and I can make her happy. But I cannot livewithout her--voila! Now will you help me?" "It does not occur to you, then, that you are astonishinglypresumptuous?" "No. " "Diable, my Angelot! It would occur to my cousins De Sainfoy!" "We are not so poor. As to family, we have not a title, it is true, butwe are their cousins--and look at my mother's descent! They can shownothing like it. And then see what they owe to my father. Without him, what would have become of Lancilly? They can make imperialist marriagesfor their two other daughters. You must help me, dear little uncle!" "Do you suppose they would listen to me, an old Chouan? Where are yourwits, my poor boy? All flown in pursuit of Mademoiselle Hélène!" "Not they, no; they are too stupid to appreciate you. But speak to myfather and mother for me. They love and honour you; they will listen. Tell them all for me; ask them to arrange it all. I will do anythingthey wish, live anywhere. Only let them give me Hélène. " Monsieur Joseph whistled, and took another large pinch of snuff. It wasalmost too dark now to see each other's face, and the heavy clouds, witha distant rolling of thunder, hung low over Les Chouettes. Suddenly a child's voice from a window above broke the silence. "Ah, forgive me, papa and Angelot, but I have heard all, every word youhave been saying. It was so interesting, I could not shut the window andgo to sleep. Well, little papa, what do you say to Angelot? Tell him youwill help him, we will both help him, to the last drop of our blood. " Angelot sprang from his seat with an exclamation, to look up at thewindow. A small, white-clad figure stood there, a round dark headagainst the dim light of the room. The voice had something pathetic aswell as comical. "Mille tonnerres!" shouted Monsieur Joseph, very angry. "Go to bed thisinstant, little imp, or I shall come upstairs with a birch rod. You willgain nothing by your dishonourable listening. I shall send you toMademoiselle Moineau to-morrow, to learn lessons all day long. " "Ah, papa, if you do, I can talk to Hélène about Angelot, " saidHenriette, and she hastily shut the window. The two men looked at each other and laughed. "Good night, dear uncle, " said Angelot, gently. "I leave my cause inyour hands--and Riette's!" "You are mad--we are all mad together. Go home and expect nothing, " saidMonsieur Joseph. CHAPTER IX HOW COMMON SENSE FOUGHT AND TRIUMPHED General Ratoneau found himself a hero at Madame de Sainfoy's dinnerparty, and was gratified. A new-comer, he had hardly yet made his wayinto provincial society, except by favour of the Prefect. Even the oldfamilies who regarded the Prefect as partly one of themselves, and forhis birth and manners forgave his opinions, found a difficulty inswallowing the General. The idea that he was unwelcome, when itpenetrated Ratoneau's brain, added to the insolence of his bearing. Toteach these ignorant provincial nobles a lesson, to show these poor andproud people, returned from emigration, that they need not imagine theFrance of 1811 to be the same country as the France of 1788, to makethem feel that they were subjects of the Emperor Napoleon and inferiorto his officers--all this seemed to General Ratoneau part of his missionin Anjou. And at the same time it was the wish of his heart to bereceived as a friend and an equal by the very people he pretended todespise. Lancilly enchanted him. Though the stately halls and staircases werebare, the great rooms half-furnished and dark--for Madame de Sainfoyhad not yet carried out her plans of decoration--though there were fewservants, no great display of splendid plate, no extravagance in thedinner itself, no magnificence in the ladies' dresses, for at this timesimplicity was the fashion--yet everything pleased him, because of theperfections of his hostess. Madame de Sainfoy laid herself out toflatter him, to put him in a good humour with himself. Rather to thedisgust of various old neighbours who had not dined at Lancilly for morethan twenty years, she placed the Prefect and the General on her rightand left at dinner, and while the Prefect made himself agreeable to anold lady on his right, whose satin gown was faded and her ancient lacein rags, she devoted all her powers of talk to the General. In a way she admired the man. His extraordinary likeness to his masterattracted her, for she was a hearty worshipper of Napoleon. She talkedof Paris, the Empress, the Court; she talked of her son and hiscampaigns, asking the General's opinion and advice, but cleverly leadinghim off when he began to brag of his own doings; so cleverly that he hadno idea of her tactics. He was a little dazzled. She was a very handsomewoman; her commanding fairness, her wonderful smile, the movements ofher lovely hands and arms, the almost confidential charm of her manner;she was worthy to be an Empress herself, Ratoneau thought, and hisadmiration went on growing. He began to talk to her of his most privateaffairs and wishes, and she listened more and more graciously. It was a large party; many of the old provincial families wererepresented there. All the company talked and laughed in the gayestmanner, though now and then eyes would light on the hostess' left-handneighbour with a kind of disgusted fascination, and somebody would besilent for a minute or two, or murmur a private remark in a neighbour'sear. One lady, an old friend and plain of speech, turned thus to Urbainde la Marinière:-- "Why does Adélaïde exert herself to entertain that creature?" "Because, madame, " he answered, smiling, "Adélaïde is the most sensibleand practical woman of our acquaintance. " "Mon Dieu! But what does she expect to get by it?" He shrugged his shoulders. Angelot, the youngest man present, had been allowed to take his cousinHélène in to dinner. Two minutes of happiness; for the arrangement ofthe table separated them by its whole length. But it had been enough tobring a smile and a tinge of lovely colour to Hélène's face, and to giveher the rare feeling that happiness, after all, was a possibility. Thenshe found herself next to a person who, after Angelot, seemed to herthe most delightful she had ever met; who asked her friendly questions, told her stories, watched her, in the intervals of his talk with others, with eyes full of admiration and a deep amusement which she did notunderstand, but which set her heart beating oddly and pleasantly, as sheasked herself if Angelot could possibly have said anything to this dearuncle of his. Poor Angelot! he looked unhappy enough, there in the distance, sittingin most unusual sulks and silence. There was an opportunity for a word, as he led her back from thedining-room, through the smaller salon, into the large lighted roomwhere all the guests had preceded them. "I don't wonder that you love your uncle, " she said to him. "I don't love him, when I see him talking to you. I am too jealous. " "How absurd!" "Besides, I am angry with him. He has not done something that I askedhim. Delay is dangerous, and I live in terror. " "What?" she asked, turning a little white. "If you would give me the Empire, I could not tell you now. " They were in the salon. He put his heels together and bowed; she swepthim a curtsey. "Help me to hand the coffee, " she said under her breath. So it came to pass, when the coffee-table was brought in, that theywalked up together to the new sofa, polished mahogany and yellow satin, finished with winged Sphinxes in gilded bronze, where Madame de Sainfoyand General Ratoneau were sitting side by side. The Prefect, of course, had brought his hostess back from thedining-room and had stood talking to her for a few minutes afterwards. But the General, having deposited his lady, came clanking up almostimmediately to rejoin Madame de Sainfoy. "Allow me, my dear Prefect, " he said. "I have not finished aninteresting talk with Madame la Comtesse. " Monsieur de Mauves looked at him, then glanced at her with a questioningsmile. "Yes, it is true. We had just touched on a subject of the very deepestinterest, " she said. Her look, her smile, seemed to glide over the Prefect's tall figure andpleasant face, as if he was merely a not disagreeable obstacle, to restthoughtfully, with satisfaction, on Ratoneau in his gorgeous uniform. "Listen! I will confide in you, and then you will understand, " said theGeneral, seizing the Prefect's arm. "I am going to consult Madame laComtesse on the subject of a marriage. " He showed his teeth in a broad smile, staring into the Prefect's face, which did not change in its expression of easy good-humour. "Whose marriage, may I ask? Your own?" "You have said it, monsieur. My own. Could I do better?" "You could not have a better counsellor. I retire at once, " said thePrefect. Then an idea crossed his mind, for just as he was met, with a friendlygreeting--"A word with you, Monsieur le Préfet"--from Joseph de laMarinière, his eyes fell on Hélène de Sainfoy as she turned away fromAngelot at the door. He had already admired her at a distance, so farthe most beautiful thing at Lancilly, in spite of the oppressed andweary air that suited so ill with her fresh girlhood. "Mon Dieu, what a sacrilege! But no, impossible!" said the Prefect tohimself. Several young people were carrying the coffee-cups about the room, Sophie and Lucie in white frocks among them. It was generally the partof the young girls; the men did not often help them, so that Madame deSainfoy looked at Angelot with surprise, and a shade of displeasure, when he approached her with Hélène. Angelot was perfectly grave and self-possessed. On his side, no onewould have known that he had ever met General Ratoneau before, certainlynot that he regarded him as an enemy. He hardly changed colour, evenwhen Ratoneau waved him aside with a scowl, and stretched across him, without rising, to take his cup from Hélène. "Come, " he said, "I'll have my coffee from those pretty hands, or not atall. " Hélène looked up startled, and met the man's bold eyes. Angelot turnedaway instantly, and in a few seconds more she had joined him, and theywere attending to other guests. Angelot commanded himself nobly; histime for punishing the General would come some day, but was not yet. Ashe and his cousin walked together along the room, the Vicomte desBarres, Monsieur Joseph's friend, pointed them out to Madame de laMarinière. "A pretty pair of cousins, madame!" "Ah, yes, " she said a little sadly. "I cannot always realise that Angeis grown up. To see him, a man, in the salon at Lancilly, makes me feelvery old. " The Vicomte murmured smiling compliments, but they soon turned to talkwhich was more serious, if not a little treasonable. And in the meanwhile other eyes followed the two young people: Madame deSainfoy's, while she doubted whether it might be necessary to snubMonsieur Ange de la Marinière; General Ratoneau's, with a long, steady, considering gaze, at the end of which he turned to his hostess and said, "You advise me to marry, madame! Give me your daughter. " For the moment, even the practical Madame de Sainfoy was both startledand shocked; so much so that she lifted her fan to hide the change inher face. But she collected herself instantly, and lowered it with asmile. "Indeed, Monsieur le Général, you do us great honour"--she began. "Butyou were good enough to ask my advice, and I should not, I think--infact, my daughter is still rather young, rather unformed, for such aposition--and then--" "She is nineteen, I know, " said General Ratoneau. "Too young for me, youthink? Well, I am forty-two, the same age as the Emperor, and he marrieda young wife last year. " "You wish to resemble His Majesty in every way, " said Madame de Sainfoy, smiling graciously; it was necessary to say something. "I am like him, I know--sapristi, it is an advantage. But I am a bettermatch in one way, madame. I have never been married. I have no wife toget rid of, before offering myself to Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. She lookslike a good girl, and she is devilish pretty. I dare say she will dowhat she likes with me. Anyhow, it is a good marriage for her, and forme. I am well off, I shall not expect much money. " In Adélaïde de Sainfoy's heart there was amazement at herself for havinglistened even so long and so patiently. This was indeed a trial of hertheories. But after all, common sense was stronger than sentiment. "We must live in our own times, " she reminded herself. "These are thepeople of the future; the past is dead. " Her eyes wandered round the room. Every man she saw there was agentleman, with ancestors, with manners, with traditions. Whether theywere returned emigrants or people who had by _force majeure_ acceptedthe Revolution and the Empire, all bore the stamp of that old worldwhich they alone kept in memory. Differences of dress, a new simplicity, ease and freedom, a revolt against formalities, these things made acertain separation between the new country society and the old. Butgentlemen and ladies all her guests were, except the man who sat besideher and asked for Hélène as coolly as if he were asking for one of herdog's puppies. Yet Madame de Sainfoy repeated to herself, "The past is dead!" "You do us great honour, " she repeated; for so strong-minded a person, the tone and words were vague. "That is precisely what you do not think, madame, " said Ratoneau, looking her straight in the face with a not unpleasant smile. She was very conscious of the resolute will, the power to command, whichthe man possessed in common with his master. Who could refuse Napoleonanything? except a man or woman here and there with whom the repulsionwas stronger than the attraction. Adélaïde de Sainfoy was not one ofthese. "You are mistaken; I do, " she said, and smiled back with all herbrilliancy. "It is true, " he said, "I am not yet a Duke, or a Marshal of France, like the others. I have had enemies--envious people: my very wounds, marks of honour, have come between me and glory. But next year, madame, when I have swept the Chouans out of the West, you will see. I have afriend at Court, now, besides. One of the Empress's equerries, MonsieurMonge, is an old brother-in-arms of mine. The Emperor has ennobled him;he is the Baron de Beauclair--a prettier name than Monge, n'est-ce pas?" "But that is charming! Tell me more about this friend of yours, " saidMadame de Sainfoy, rather eagerly. This was a new view, a new possibility. Ratoneau knew what he was doing;he had not forgotten the Prefect's remark at Les Chouettes, some daysbefore, as to Madame de Sainfoy's ambition of a place at Court forherself, as lady-in-waiting to the Empress. For a minute or two heswaggered on about his friend Monge; then suddenly turned again upon theComtesse. "But my answer, madame! There, you must excuse me; I am a rough soldier;I am not accustomed to wait for anything. When I want a thing, I ask forit. When it is not given at once--" "You take it, I suppose? Yes: the wonder is that you should ask at all!"said Madame de Sainfoy. Her look and smile seemed to turn the words, which might have been veryscornful, into an easy little jest; but none the less they were aslight check on the airs of this conquering hero. He laughed. "Well, madame, you are right, I withdraw the words. If you refuse myrequest, I shall have to make my bow, I suppose. But you will not. " She leaned back with lowered eyelids, playing with her fan. "At this moment, " she said, "I can only give you a word ofadvice--Patience, Monsieur le Général. For myself I will speak frankly. I am entirely loyal to the Empire and the Army; they are the glory ofFrance. I think a brave soldier is worthy of any woman. Personally, thissudden idea of yours does not at all displease me. But I am not the onlyor the chief person concerned. Monsieur de Sainfoy, too, has his ownideas, and among them is an extreme indulgence of his daughter'sfancies. You observe, I am speaking to you in the frankest confidence. Itreat you as you treat me--" she glanced up and smiled. "Only this year, in Paris, plans of mine have been spoilt in this way. " "But fortunately for me, madame!" exclaimed Ratoneau. "We will notregret those plans, if you please. Shall I speak to Monsieur de Sainfoythis evening?" "No, I beg! Say nothing at all. Leave the affair in my hands. I promise, I will do my best for you. " She spoke low and hurriedly, for her husband was walking up to theretired corner where she and the General were sitting, and she, knowinghis humours so well, could see that he was surprised and a little angryat the confidences which had been going on. It was one of Hervé's tiresome points, unworthy of a man of the world, that he did not always let her go her own way without question, thoughhe ought to have learnt by this time to trust her in everything. He now came up and asked General Ratoneau if he would play a game ofbilliards. Most of the men had already left the salon. The Generalgrunted an assent, and rose stiffly to follow his host, with a grave bowto Madame de Sainfoy. The Comte walked with him half across the room, then suddenly turned back to meet his wife, whose preoccupation he hadnoticed rather curiously. "You have other guests, Adélaïde!" he said, so that she alone couldhear. "I have, " she answered. "And I must talk to you presently. I havesomething to say. " He gazed an instant into her eyes, which were very blue and shining, buthe found no answer to the question in his own, and hurried at once away. Without the Prefect's scrap of information or his wider knowledge ofmen, he did not even guess what those two could have been talking about. Something political, he supposed; Adélaïde loved politics, and couldthrow herself into them with anybody, even such a lump of arrogantvulgarity as this fellow Ratoneau. She thought it wise, no doubt, tocultivate imperial officials. But in that case why did she not bestowthe lion's share of her smiles on the Prefect, a greater man and agentleman into the bargain? Why did she let him waste his pleasant talkon the dowagers of Anjou, while she sat absorbed with that animal? The guests, thirty or more, were scattered between the billiard-room, the smaller drawing-room, where card-tables were set out, and the largedrawing-room, given up to conversation and presently to the acting of aproverb by several of the younger people and Mademoiselle Moineau, whoplayed the part of a great-grandmother to perfection. Angelot so distinguished himself as a jealous lover that Hélène couldhardly sit calmly to look on, and several people told him and his motherthat his right place was at the _Français_. "It is part of our life at La Marinière, " Anne said with a shade ofimpatience to the Prefect, who was talking to her. "When we are notsinging or playing or dancing or shooting, we are acting. It does notsound like a very responsible kind of life. " "Ah, madame, " Monsieur de Mauves said softly, in his kind way, "weFrench people know how to play and to work at the same time. All theselittle amusements do not hinder people from conspiring against theState. " A flush rose in her thin face; she threw herself eagerly forward. "Are you speaking of my son, Monsieur le Préfet? Do not blame him forloyalty to his uncle. He is not a conspirator. Sometimes--" shelaughed--"I think Ange has not character enough. " "Yes, he has character, " the Prefect answered. "But you are right in oneway, madame; he does not yet care enough for one cause or the other. Something will draw him--some stronger love than this for his uncle. " "Heaven forbid!" sighed Madame de la Marinière. For her eyes followed his. They fell on Hélène near the door, white andfair, her face lit up with some new and sweet feeling as she laughedwith the little old governess dressed up in ancient brocades from achest in the garret, the dowager Marquise of the proverb just played. And a little further, in the shadow of the doorway, stood Angelot inpowdered wig, silk coat, and sword, looking like a handsome courtierfrom a group by Watteau, and his eyes showed plainly enough what woman, if not what cause, attracted him at the moment. As to causes, MonsieurJoseph and the Vicomte des Barres were deep in talk close by; twoChouans consulting in the very presence of the Prefect. Monsieur de Mauves smiled, took a delicate pinch of snuff, and strokedhis chin. "Sometimes I congratulate myself, madame, " he said, "on having no youngpeople to marry. Yet, with a sense of duty, which, thank God, theygenerally have, they are more manageable than their elders. Look, forinstance, at your dear and charming brother-in-law. There he is hatchingfresh plots, when I have just assured him that the police are notsupervising him by my orders, and never shall, if I can trust him tobehave like a peaceable citizen. " "Ah, you are very good, Monsieur le Préfet, " said Madame de laMarinière. She went on talking absently. "Whatever we may think of yourpolitics, " she said, "it seems a crime to annoy or disappoint you. Indeed you do much to reconcile us. But as to Ange--his father's son isnever likely--" "It is a world of surprises, dear madame, " said the Prefect, as she didnot finish her sentence. "I wish him all that is good--and so I wishthat you and Monsieur de la Marinière would send him into the army. Heshould serve France--should make her his only mistress, at least for thenext ten years. Then let him marry, settle down amongst us here--turnagainst the Emperor, if he chooses--but by that time there will be nodanger!" Thus flattering himself and his master, the Prefect wished her an almostaffectionate good night. In a few minutes more, nearly all the guests were gone. Angelot, stillin his quaint acting costume, went out to the court with Monsieur deSainfoy to see the ladies into their carriages. He then went to changehis clothes, his cousin returning to the salon. Hurrying back into thelong hall, now empty of servants, vast and rather ghostly with its rowsof family portraits dimly lighted, while caverns of darkness showedwhere passages opened and bare stone staircases led up or down, he sawHélène, alone, coming swiftly towards him. She flew up the stairs, the last landing of which he had just reached onhis way down, where it turned sharply under a high barred window. Meeting Angelot suddenly, she almost screamed, but stopped herself intime. He laughed joyfully; he was wildly excited. "Ah, belle cousine!" he said softly. "Dear, we shall say good night herebetter than in the salon!" Never once, since that hour in the garden ten days ago, had these twomet without witnesses. Hélène, as a rule, was far too well guarded forthat. She tried even now, but not successfully, to keep her ratherpresumptuous lover at a little distance, but in truth she was too muchenchanted to see him, her only friend, for this pretence of coldness tolast long. Standing with Angelot's arms round her, trembling from headto foot with joy and fear, she tried between his kisses and tenderwords to tell him how indeed he must not stop her, for in real prosaictruth Madame de Sainfoy had sent her off to bed. "But why, why, dear angel, before we were all gone! It was the bestthing that could happen--but why?" "That is what I do not know, and it frightens me a little, " said Hélène. "Frightened here with me!" "Yes, Angelot!" She tried to speak, but he would hardly let her. Sheheld him back with both hands, and went on hurriedly--"It was mamma'slook--she looked at me so strangely, she spoke severely, as if I haddone wrong, and indeed I have, mon Dieu! but she does not know it, and Ihope she never may. If she knew, I believe she would kill me. Let me go, I must!" "One moment, darling! Come away with me! I will fetch a horse and carryyou off. Then it won't matter what any one knows!" "You are distracted!" Hélène began to laugh, though her eyes were fullof tears. "Listen, listen, " she said. "Your father and mother and unclewere just going, when mamma called them back. She said to papa and themthat she wished to consult the family. Oh, what is it all about? Whatcan it be?" "That matters very little as long as they don't want us. Let them talk. What are you afraid of, my sweet?" "I can't tell you. I hardly know, " murmured Hélène; and in the nextinstant she had snatched herself from him and flown upstairs. There were quick steps in the hall below, and Monsieur Joseph's voicewas calling "Angelot!" CHAPTER X HOW ANGELOT REFUSED WHAT HAD NOT BEEN OFFERED Madame de Sainfoy herself hardly knew why she wished to consult thefamily, there and then, on the fate proposed for Hélène. The truth was, she relied on Urbain, and wanted his support against her husband, withwhom the subject was a difficult one. As to Anne de la Marinière, noparticular sympathy was to be expected from her, certainly; but onecould not detain Urbain at that hour without detaining her too. It wasthe same with Joseph, in a less degree. Neither to him nor to MadameUrbain did it matter in the least what marriage was arranged for Hélènede Sainfoy; they had even no right to an opinion; they were neither auntnor uncle, they had no special place in the world, and the girl hadnothing to expect from them. But Madame de Sainfoy knew that her husbandtook a different view of all this, that he made a certain fuss withthese old cousins, considered them as his family, and would not endurethat they should be in any way shut out or slighted. "He likes to be surrounded by these country admirers, " Madame deSainfoy would have said. "If I do not talk to them about this, he will;and it will please him that I should consult them. Urbain is different, of course. Urbain is a sensible man; he will be on my side. " So she put Madame Urbain, rather grave, indifferent, and tired, into achair on her right, smiled brilliantly upon her, and turned herattention upon the two men standing before the fireplace, Hervé andUrbain, one troubled and curious, for he knew her well, and her driftpuzzled him, the other gay, serene, and waiting her commands with readydeference. Monsieur Joseph, not much interested, thinking of his talkswith the Prefect and Monsieur des Barres, impatient to hurry home andsay good night to Riette, sat a little in the background. With all her eagerness, with all her ambition and policy, Adélaïde deSainfoy flushed and hesitated a little before she set forth her plan. "My friends, " she said, "this is a family council. Hervé and I arefortunate, here at Lancilly. We need no longer decide family affairs byour unassisted wits. " She smiled on Hervé's cousins, and Urbain bowed; he, at least, recognised the honour that was done them. "A proposal of marriage has been made to me for our daughter Hélène. " She spoke to the company, but looked at her husband; there was fear aswell as defiance in her eyes. He returned her gaze steadily, slightlyfrowning. Urbain bowed again, and looked at the floor with aninscrutable countenance. Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly, as if tosay, "How does that concern me?" Joseph jumped suddenly from his chair, the colour rushing into his thin brown face, and stood like a point ofexclamation. Nobody spoke, not even Hélène's father. "Let me announce to you, " said Madame de Sainfoy, still looking at him, "that the personage who has done us this honour is--Monsieur le GénéralRatoneau. " The moment of dead silence that followed this was broken by a shortlaugh from the Comte. "Was it worth while to consult a family council?" he said. "I shouldhave thought, my dear Adélaïde, that a word from you might have settledthat matter on the spot. " Monsieur Joseph said aside: "Honour! It is an insult!" Anne opened her eyes wide with horror, and even Urbain was startled, buthe prudently said nothing. "It might--it certainly might--" said Madame de Sainfoy, "if I couldhave been sure that you would take my view, Hervé. " "I imagine that we could hardly differ on such a point!" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "What is your opinion, then? Think well before you speak. " "On my honour, no thought is necessary. To speak very mildly, a man ofthat birth, manners, appearance, is not worth considering at all as ahusband for Hélène. Come, it is ridiculous! You cannot have encouragedsuch an idea, Adélaïde! Was that the subject of all your longconversation? Waste of time, truly!" "Pardon, it is not ridiculous, " said Madame de Sainfoy. "Your prejudiceswill end by sending Hélène into a convent; this, I believe, is thefourth good proposal that you have laughed at. Yes, a goodproposal--listen, Urbain, I know you will agree with me, for everysensible man must. You talk of General Ratoneau's birth! All honour tohim, that his talents and courage have raised him above it. As to hismanners, they are those of a soldier; frank and rough, of course, but heseems to me both intelligent and sincere. Manners! It is a little latein the day to talk of them, when most of the Marshals of France and thenew nobility have none better. Do you fancy yourself back in theeighteenth century, my poor Hervé?" "Very well--but you would not like Georges to bring such manners homefrom Spain!" "If Georges distinguishes himself, and gains the Emperor's favour, hemay bring home what he likes, " said Madame de Sainfoy, scornfully. "However, there is no danger; he is our son. " "I should have thought that our son-in-law mattered at least as much. " "We are not responsible for him. By the bye, as to the General'sappearance, you can hardly object to that without bordering on treason. For my part, I call him a handsome man. " "A handsome butcher!" said Anne de la Marinière, under her breath. "He is--he is a butcher's son, " cried Joseph, suddenly. "I know it--thePrefect told me. His father is still alive--old Ratoneau--a wholesalebutcher at Marseilles. He was one of the foremost among theRevolutionists there--a butcher, indeed. Oh, madame, Hervé is right! Butit is more than ridiculous--it is impossible. Why, the very name isenough! Ratoneau!" Madame de Sainfoy hardly seemed to hear him. She put him on one sidewith the slightest movement of her hand. "Next year, probably, " she said, "General Ratoneau will be a Marshal ofFrance and ennobled. He will be the equal of all those other men whohave already married into our best families. At this moment a friend ofhis, the Baron de Beauclair, formerly his equal, is an equerry to theEmpress. General Ratoneau has only to do the Emperor's work here, to--topacify and reconcile the West, and his turn will come. " She gave herself credit for not repeating Ratoneau's own words as tosweeping out the Chouans. Joseph de la Marinière did not deserve suchconsideration, but she wished to be careful and politic. "After all, do you not see how inconsistent we are?" she said to thecompany generally. "We take all the benefits of the Empire, we submit toa successful soldier, accept a new régime for ourselves, and refuse itfor our children. Is it not unreasonable?" "On the face of it, yes, " said Urbain, speaking for the first time. "Andthere is nothing, they say, that pleases the Emperor so much as themarriage of his officers with young ladies of good family. I have nodoubt at all, if my friend Hervé could reconcile himself, thatMademoiselle Hélène would further the fortunes of her family by such amarriage as this. General Ratoneau is a fine soldier, I believe. I agreewith you, madame, he is handsome. He rubs our instincts a little thewrong way, but after all, this is not the time to be sensitive. As toMademoiselle Hélène herself, I am sure she is most dutiful. I couldimagine marriages more obnoxious to her. She would soon reconcileherself to a husband chosen for her by all the authorities. " "Poor Hélène!" sighed Madame de la Marinière. "Come, Urbain, you friend of liberty!" exclaimed Joseph. "You adviseinternal tyranny, it seems; what would you say to the external? If Iwere in my cousin's place, I would wait for that before making such asacrifice. " "What do you mean, Joseph?" said his brother. "I mean that our dear Prefect has the fates of all our young daughtersin his hands. He has only to report them to the Emperor, and a marriageto please His Majesty will be at once arranged. Is not that enoughobedience? Cannot we wait for that necessity, instead of runningbeforehand to give a beautiful girl to the first brutal soldier who asksfor her?" And after that the argument waxed loud and strong. Monsieur Joseph wascalled upon for his authority, for particulars as to this new powergiven to the Prefects, which was hardly yet known, their own goodPrefect being heartily ashamed of it. Hervé de Sainfoy declared that itwas stupid and intolerable, but also impracticable, and in this he andhis Royalist cousin agreed. No one would bear it, they were sure; butthey were also convinced that De Mauves would never make use of it. Urbain shrugged his shoulders, and was of a different opinion. Hethought the idea quite of a piece with many of Napoleon's otheradministrative plans; it seemed to him far-reaching and clever, thefoundation of a new Imperialist nobility. Madame de Sainfoy, her cheeksflushed, her blue eyes shining, applauded Urbain as he spoke. It seemedto her, as to him, common sense put into practice. If the foolish oldfamilies of France would not swallow and assimilate the new order ofthings, it must be forced down their throats. The Emperor, and no oneelse, had the power to do this. His resolute will had the task of makinga new society, and it was useless to complain of his means. But, evidently, the way to the Emperor's favour was not to wait for coercion, but to accept this fine opportunity of ranging one's family definitelyon his side. Georges an officer, Hélène married to an officer, herself alady-in-waiting to Marie Louise; thus everything would be arranged forfloating down the great river of the Empire into the ocean of a newworld. And immediate action seemed all the more advisable, if thePrefect's false delicacy was likely to leave the Sainfoy family strandedon a reef of old-fashioned manners. At last, when every one had ceased to talk at once and the clamour was alittle stilled, Hervé de Sainfoy stepped forward and made his wife a lowbow. "Madame, " he said, "I have heard all your arguments, and myold-fashioned prejudices remain the same. I have made some sacrifices tokeep our country and position, and may have to make more; but when youask me to give my eldest daughter to a man who is not even a poorimitation of a gentleman, you ask too much. I will choose a husband forHélène myself, or she shall take the veil. That life, at least, has itsdistinction. Aunts, great-aunts, cousins, have chosen it before her. Oneof our best and most beautiful ancestors was a Carmelite nun. " Madame de la Marinière clapped her hands gently. Hervé smiled at her, and Madame de Sainfoy frowned. "A convent! No, no!" cried Urbain, while Joseph muttered breathlessly, "But there is a better alternative, dear cousins!" He flew out of the room. The rest of the council looked at each other, puzzled and smiling, except Madame de Sainfoy, whose irritationdeepened. Who was this tiresome, old-fashioned little man, that heshould interfere in her plans! and what _lubies_ might possess him now! The curtains at the door, flung back by Joseph, had hardly settled oncemore into their places when he came back again, clutching Angelot by thearm. Coming from the darkness, from the presence of Hélène, Angelot wasdazzled and slightly out of breath when his uncle dragged him into thesalon. He had not had time to ask a question; he came utterly unpreparedinto the presence of the family, and the faces that received him werenot encouraging. Three at least were flushed with anger or confusion;his father's, his mother's, Madame de Sainfoy's. It was at her that helooked most intently; and he had never seen anything more unfriendlythan the gleam of her eyes, the flash of her white teeth between lipssuddenly drawn back like those of a fierce animal, while her flushfaded, as Monsieur Joseph spoke, to a whiteness even more threatening. He understood Hélène's words, "If she knew, she would kill me. " No, this woman would not have much mercy on anything that crossed herwill--and Hélène was in her power. Monsieur Joseph's slight hands, like Angelot's, were strong. The youngfellow tried instinctively to wrench himself from his uncle's grasp onhis arm, but it only tightened. "Here, dear friends, I bring you the alternative!" cried MonsieurJoseph, in his joyfullest tone. "Why not marry Mademoiselle Hélène tothe best and handsomest boy in Anjou--in France, for that matter--a boywe have all known from his cradle--who will have a good fortune, aprudent father's only child--who would, no doubt, though I grieve to sayit, serve under any flag you please for such a prize. Yes, I am safe insaying so, for--" The romantic little gentleman was stopped in his wild career. Angelot, his eyes blazing, with a white face and teeth set as furiously as Madamede Sainfoy's own, turned round upon him, seized him with his free handby the other arm, and shook him with all his young strength, hissingout: "Will you be quiet, Uncle Joseph! Will you hold your tongue, if youplease, and leave me to manage my own affairs. " "Come, come, what does all this mean?" cried Urbain, stepping forward. "It means that my uncle is mad--mad--you know you are!" Angelot said ina choked voice. Still holding Monsieur Joseph with a dog's firm grip, he stared into hiseyes and shook his head violently. "What, ungrateful--" the little uncle tried to say, but Angelot's face, his totally unexpected rage, seemed to suggest such unknown mysteriesthat the words died in his throat. Suddenly released, he dropped into a chair and swore prodigiously underhis breath, quite forgetting the presence of ladies in the unnatural, awful change that had come over his nephew. He stared at Angelot, whowas indeed the centre of all eyes; his mother sitting upright inconsternation; his father with angry brow and queerly smiling mouth;Hervé de Sainfoy very grave, with elevated eyebrows; the Comtesseleaning back in her chair, hard, fierce, watchful, yet a shade lessangry than before. If this was only a fancy of that ridiculous Joseph, it might not signify--yet who knew? She was ready to suspect any one, every one, even the young man's father. The name of La Marinière wasodious to her. Angelot drew himself very upright, folded his arms, and turned to facethe family council. "See what it is to have an uncle!" he said, and his voice, though clearenough, was not quite so proud and convincing as his attitude. "Hetreats me like a child crying for the moon. If he could, he would fetchthe moon out of the sky for me. But his kind pains are quite thrownaway, mesdames et messieurs, for--I do not want the moon, any more thanthe moon wants me!" He almost laughed; and only the quick change of colour in his young faceshowed that any feeling lay behind the words which sounded--in MonsieurJoseph's ears at least--heartlessly playful. Angelot stepped up to Madame de Sainfoy and respectfully kissed herhand. "Bonsoir, madame!" "Bonsoir, Angelot. " She spoke coldly; she was still uneasy, still suspicious; she gave him akeen look, and his eyelids were not lifted to meet it. In another momenthe was gone. Then the others gathered round poor Monsieur Joseph, and tried to makehim explain his wild behaviour. At first he stared at them vaguely, thenin a few quick words took all the blame upon himself. Yes, it was anidea that had suddenly seized him. His love for Angelot, the beauty andsweetness of Hélène, a dream of happiness for them both! A pastoralpoem, in short! but it seemed that the young man was not worthy of hisplace as its hero. "It seems, after all, I am more poetical than you, " he said ratherbitterly to Urbain. "My dear, " his brother said, "poetry at its best is the highest goodsense. Now your idea, as the boy himself let us know, is moonstruckmadness. " "Ah, moonstruck madness! Ah, the boy! Yes, yes, " said Monsieur Joseph, dreamily, and he also took his leave. Monsieur Urbain and his wife followed immediately. Angelot had notwaited for them and the little hooded carriage, but had walked on acrossthe valley in the cool damp darkness. They talked very seriously as theydrove home, for once in entire agreement. When they reached the manor, their son had shut himself into his own room, and they did not disturbhim. "I hope you will soon keep your word, and find a suitable husband forHélène, " Madame de Sainfoy said to her husband. "I am a little tired ofthe business. " "I don't think there will be much difficulty. We must look furtherafield. Plenty of men of our own rank have accepted the Empire, andHélène is a match for a Prince, though our little cousin refuses her! Irather like that boy. " "Do you? I do not. Certainly he was candid--and he put an effectual stopto his uncle's absurdities. He is really out of his mind, that man. Iwish the Chouans joy of him. " "Poor Joseph! After all, he is an excellent creature. In these days, itis amusing to meet any one so wild and so romantic. " "I find it tiresome, " said Adélaïde. CHAPTER XI HOW MONSIEUR URBAIN SMOKED A CIGAR These days before the vintage were very peaceful at La Marinière. Monsieur and Madame Urbain were practical people, and idleness, as arule, had a bad time of it with them; but September was a holiday month, and there was little work going on, except the hammering of barrels inthe yard, and other preparations for busy October. September was usuallythe month when Angelot could shoot and ramble to his heart's content, when Urbain had leisure to sit down with a book at other times thanevening, when Anne, her poor people visited, nursed, comforted, herhousehold in quiet old-fashioned order, could spend long hours alonepraying and meditating in the little old church. Lancilly had brought disturbance into September. It occupied Urbain'sthoughts and time, it seemed now to be throwing its net over Angelot. Anne longed still more for peace and refuge under the low white archesof the church, in her visits to _le bon Dieu;_ and even here herthoughts distracted her. She came back from early mass, the morning after the dinner party, tofind Angelot already gone out with his gun, and her husband juststarting for Lancilly. "He is not gone that way, I hope?" she said quickly. "No, no, he is gone across the fields towards Les Chouettes. I told himto bring back some partridge and quail, and a hare or two, if possible. I think he is gone to make his peace with Joseph. " "I should like to know the meaning of all that. I must talk to him whenhe comes in. " "My dear Anne, do nothing of the sort. Let the boy alone. If he has afancy for his cousin, and if Joseph guessed it, which I suspect, it isbetter for us to ignore it altogether. " "I am afraid he has, do you know. I did not think so till lastnight--but then I saw something. So did Monsieur de Mauves. He said asmuch. He advised sending Ange into the army--but you will never do that, Urbain!" A gold mist filled the valley, hiding Lancilly, and through it rose theglittering points of the poplars. She walked with him to the gardengate, past the trim box hedges, and then down the lane towards thechurch. Apple-trees, heavy with red fruit, bent over the way, as safe onthat village road as in any fenced orchard. "I do not want to send him into the army, " Urbain said, and he looked ather tenderly. He had long doubted whether, to please her, he was not spoiling andwasting the boy's life. He was sometimes angry with himself for hisweakness; then again philosophy came to his aid: he laughed and shruggedhis shoulders. It had always been so: on one side the bringing up of hisson according to his own mind; and on the other, domestic peace. For hislittle Anne, with all her religion, perhaps because of it, was anythingbut meek as a wife and mother. It was fortunate for all parties, he nowthought, that the present slight anxiety found her and himself on thesame side, though for different reasons. "Hélène is an astonishingly pretty girl, " he said, "and the sooner sheis married the better. Young men will be foolish. " "More than pretty--beautiful, I think. A little lifeless--I don't knowthat I should fall in love with her. Yes--but a good marriage, poorgirl. Not to that monster! Adélaïde amazes me. " Urbain's ugly face curled up in a rather sardonic smile. He took hiswife's hand and kissed it. "My little lady, Adélaïde is to be admired. You are to be adored. Go andsay your prayers for us all. " He disappeared into the morning mist, which just then moved and sweptaway under a light wind, opening to view all the opposite slope and thegorgeous, sun-bathed front of Lancilly. "Ah, mon Dieu!" murmured Anne. "To lose both of them to Lancilly--come, it is too much. You shall not have Ange, you horrible old walls--no!" By this time Urbain had disappeared round the corner of the church, andwas hurrying down the hill. She slipped in at her own little door, toher place near the altar, so lately left. All was silent now, the Curéwas gone; she knelt there alone and prayed for them all, as Urbain hadsaid. His words were mockery, she knew; but that only made her prayersmore earnest. The misty autumn morning grew into a cloudless day. Urbain came home tobreakfast between ten and eleven, but Angelot did not appear. Urbain wasgrave and full of business. A short talk with Hervé, who was going outshooting, a much longer and more interesting talk with Adélaïde, had theconsequence of sending him off that very day to the town ofSonnay-le-Loir, the Prefect's residence and General Ratoneau'sheadquarters. It was not exactly a pleasant errand, to convey Monsieur and Madame deSainfoy's refusal of his offer to a man like the General. It could havebeen done quite as easily by the post, thus sparing trouble andannoyance to the faithful cousin who had borne so much. But there werecomplications; and a careful talking over of these with Adélaïde, afterHervé was gone, had led Urbain to suggest going himself. He had a doublereason for wishing to soften the effect of his cousin's rather short andhaughty letter. It must go, of course, whatever his own and Madame deSainfoy's disapproval; but there were things that diplomacy might do, without, as it seemed, any serious consequences to recoil on thediplomatists. Madame de Sainfoy might gain imperial favour, Monsieur dela Marinière might help her and save his foolish boy, and no one in thefamily, except themselves, need know what they were doing. It was not an uncommon thing for Urbain to drive over to Sonnay, thoughhe generally started much earlier. On this occasion he said nothing ofhis real errand to his wife, only telling her when she mentionedHélène's marriage that Hervé continued in the same mind. Many thingswanted for the house and the farm had come conveniently to his memory. He started with his groom at twelve o'clock, in the high, hoodedcarriage, with a pair of strong horses, which made short work of therocky lanes about La Marinière. The high road towards Sonnay was smoothcompared with these, running between belts of dark forest, and along itMonsieur Urbain drove at a good rattling pace of twelve miles an hour. Sonnay-le-Loir was a beautiful and picturesque town, once stronglydefended, both by walls and a deep river which flowed round below them. There was a good deal left of the old ramparts; the gates still stood, the narrow streets of tall old white houses, each with its court andcarriage entrance and shady garden behind, went climbing up the hill tothe large square where the Cathedral towered on one side, the town-halland public offices filled up another, the Prefecture a third, and an oldhotel, now used as military quarters, the fourth. Though it was not market-day, the white cobbled square was cheerfulenough; a few stalls of fruit and vegetables, sheltered by colouredumbrellas from the strong sunshine, were lodged about the broad steps ofthe Cathedral; peasants and townspeople were clattering about in theirsabots, soldiers were being drilled in front of the hotel. The bellswere chiming and clanging; high up into the blue air soared the tallpinnacles of the Cathedral, delicate stone lacework still fresh andyoung at five hundred years old, spared by the storm which twenty yearsago had wrecked so much down below that was beautiful. A crowd ofblue-grey pigeons flapped and cooed about the towers or strutted softlyon the stones in the square. Monsieur Urbain put up his horses at an old posting hotel in the streetnear the gateway, and walked up into the square. Finding that GeneralRatoneau was at home, he left Monsieur de Sainfoy's letter with his owncard, and a message that he would have the honour of calling to see theGeneral, later in the afternoon. He then went away to do hiscommissions. At the appointed time he returned to the hotel, and was atonce shown upstairs to a large room at the back, looking on a broad, paved court surrounded by barracks. Neither the room nor its inmate was attractive, and Urbain's humorousface screwed itself into a grimace of disgust as he walked in; but hedid not, for that, renounce the errand with which Madame de Sainfoy hadentrusted him. The floor was dusty and strewn with papers, the wallswere stained, the furniture, handsome in itself, had been much ill-used, and two or three chairs now lay flung where it was tolerably evidentthat the General had kicked them. The western sun poured hotly in; theatmosphere was of wine, tobacco, and boots; dirty packs of cards werescattered on the table among bottles and glasses, pipes and cigars. General Ratoneau lay stretched on a large sofa in undress uniform, witha red face and a cigar in his mouth. Hervé de Sainfoy's letter, tornacross, lay on the floor beside him. He got up and received his visitor with formal civility, though hislooks said plainly, "What the devil do you want here?" Urbain was cool and self-possessed. He acted the _rôle_ of an ordinaryvisitor, talking of the country and the news from Spain. The General, though extremely grumpy, was still capable of ordinary conversation, andhis remarks, especially on the Spanish campaign, were those of anintelligent soldier who knew his subject. "If the Emperor would send me to Spain, " he growled, "I would teachthose miserable Spaniards a lesson. As to the English, it is the desireof my life to fight them. They are bull-dogs, they say--sapristi, I amsomething of a bull-dog myself--when I lay hold, I don't often let go. You don't know me yet, monsieur, but you will find that that is my way. I am not easily thwarted, monsieur. " "A fine quality, Monsieur le Général!" said Urbain, calmly. "It is true, I hardly know you. I had heard of you from my brother, Joseph de laMarinière--" "Your Chouan brother, ha, ha!" "My Royalist brother, suppose we say. Every one has a right to his ownprivate opinions, Monsieur le Général. " "A dangerous doctrine, that!" "As long as he keeps them to himself, and does not disturb the publicpeace. I have acted successfully on that principle for the last thirtyyears, and it has carried me comfortably through various changes. " "What are you, monsieur?" "A philosopher. I take life as it comes. That way happiness lies. " The General laughed. "I think differently. My idea is to make life comeas I want it. " "That is a fine idea, too, " Urbain said serenely. "Only it does notalways seem to be within the limits of the possible. " "Ah, there I agree with the Emperor. He will not have the word'impossible' in the dictionary. " "The Emperor is a great man, " said Urbain, with his inscrutable smile. It was certainly on Ratoneau's tongue to answer, "So am I!" but he onlylaughed again and muttered something about strength of will. The dark, watchful eyes followed his visitor's to the floor, whereMonsieur de Sainfoy's letter lay; that letter which seemed to belie hisbull-dog boasting. Something he wanted in life had been refused himpoint-blank; in ceremonious terms, but with uncompromising plainness. The Comte de Sainfoy did not even trouble himself to find reasons fordeclining the offer of marriage that General Ratoneau had doneMademoiselle de Sainfoy the honour to make. "We met last night at Lancilly, monsieur, " said Ratoneau, "but I did notexpect the politeness of a visit from you--at any rate so soon. But Iunderstand that you are your cousin's messenger. You brought me thatletter--neither did I expect that so soon. " He pointed to the fragments on the floor. His manner was insolent, andLa Marinière felt it so; even to his seasoned cheek a little warmthfound its way. Something of him was on Hervé's side, while he wasprepared and resolved to serve Adélaïde in this matter. "My own affairs brought me to Sonnay, " he said. "My cousin wished you toreceive his letter as soon as might be. I therefore took charge of it. " "Do you know what it is about?" To this abrupt question Urbain answered by a bow. The General frowned angrily. "Then what brought you here, monsieur? Doyou want to report my disappointment to your aristocratic fool of acousin? Merci!" and he swore a few hearty oaths. "There are plenty morepretty girls in France, and plenty of their fathers who would gladly belinked with the Empire. Take that message back to your cousin, if youplease. " "But no, Monsieur le Général, " said Urbain, smiling and shaking hishead. "If I were to repeat all you have just said, my cousin might sendme back to you with a challenge. And I am a man of peace, a philosopher, as I tell you. No, I did not come to report your disappointment. Andindeed, to tell you the truth, my cousin did not know that I was goingto visit you at all. And I do not think he will ever be wiser. " Ratoneau stared at him. "May I be extinguished if I understand you!" "However, " said Urbain, rising from his chair, "I am glad, personally, that you take the matter so well. As you say, the young ladies ofFrance, and their _fathers_, will not all be so shortsighted. " "Thousand thunders! Sit down again, monsieur. Take one of thesecigars--I had them from Spain--and try this Château Latour. Rather adifferent sort of thing from the stuff that son of yours expected me toenjoy at Les Chouettes, the other day. That's right. I like you, monsieur. You are a man without prejudices; one can talk frankly withyou. Your health, monsieur!" and glasses were clinked together, forUrbain did not refuse the soldier's hospitality. "Now tell me all about it!" cried the General, in a much better humour. "I understand your emphasis just now, sapristi! That was what puzzledme, that Madame la Comtesse should seem to have played me false. Lastnight, I assure you, she encouraged me to the utmost. At first, it'strue, she muttered something about her daughter being too young, but Ivery soon convinced her what a foolish argument that was. I tell you, monsieur, when I left her, I considered the promise as good as made. Shesaid her husband had a way of indulging his daughter's fancies--butafter all, I took her to be a woman who could turn husband and daughterand everybody else round her little finger, if she chose. So this rag ofa letter came upon me like a thunderbolt. Is that it? Has the young girltaken a dislike to me? Why, mille tonnerres, she has not even spoken tome, nor I to her!" "No, Monsieur le Général, " said Urbain, "Mademoiselle de Sainfoy has notbeen asked for her opinion. The decision comes from her father, andfrom him alone. Madame de Sainfoy was loyal to you; she urged yourcause, but unsuccessfully. My cousin, I must say, much as I love him, showed a certain narrowness and obstinacy. He would hear nothing infavour of the marriage. " "Were you present when they discussed it?" "I was. I am always on the advanced, the liberal side. I spoke in yourfavour. " "I am obliged to you. Your glass, monsieur. How do you find that cigar?" "Excellent. " "Now, monsieur, give me your advice, for I see you are a clever man. First, is any other marriage on the tapis for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy?" "Decidedly no, monsieur. None. " "Shall I then insist on seeing her, and pleading my cause for myself?" "I should not advise that course, " said Urbain, and there was somethingin his discreet smile which made the General's red face redder with atouch of mortification. "Well, I should not eat her, " he said. "Her mother found me agreeableenough, and a shy young girl rather likes a man who takes her by storm. " "Nevertheless, I think that plan would not answer. For one thing, mycousin would object: he considers his refusal final. In fact--after muchthought--for I agree with Madame de Sainfoy as to the probableadvantages of a connection with a distinguished man like yourself--infact, there is only one faint possibility that occurs to me. " "What is that, monsieur?" Urbain hesitated. He sat looking out of the window, frowning slightly, the tips of his fingers pressed together. "I wonder, " he said--something, perhaps conscience, made the words longin coming--"I wonder if some day, in the course of the reports that heis bound, I believe, to make to the Emperor, it might occur to Monsieurle Préfet to mention--" General Ratoneau stared blankly. "Monsieur le Préfet?" "Well, am I wrong? I heard something of an imperial order--a list ofyoung ladies--marriages arranged by His Majesty, without much consultingof family prejudices--" General Ratoneau brought down his heavy fist on the table, so that theglasses jumped and clattered. His language was startling. "Monsieur de la Marinière, you are the cleverest man in Anjou!" heshouted. "And Madame la Comtesse would not be angry?" "I think not. But a command from the Emperor--a command comingindependently from the highest quarter--would naturally carry all beforeit, " said Urbain. CHAPTER XII HOW THE PREFECT'S DOG SNAPPED AT THE GENERAL The shadows were lengthening when Urbain de la Marinière at last leftthe General's hotel, and walked thoughtfully across the square, past thePrefecture, down the street to find his carriage. He had resisted the temptation of dining with the officers and playingcards afterwards, though he by no means disliked either a game of chanceor a good dinner. It seemed to him that he had done as much in Madame deSainfoy's interests as she could reasonably expect. Though there mightbe worse men, General Ratoneau could not be called a pleasant companion. His loud voice and swaggering manners could not be agreeable to a personof Monsieur Urbain's measured mind and self-controlled ways. He was atype, and in that way interesting. The strange likeness to his masterlent him a touch of character, almost of distinction, neither of whichreally belonged to him; yet, somehow, by a certain appeal to theimagination, it made him a just possible husband for a girl of goodfamily. Not a gentleman, or anything like one; yet not quite theordinary _bourgeois_. Considering the times, it appeared to Urbain thathis cousin de Sainfoy need not be actually ashamed of such a son-in-law. Anyhow, he had done his best to further the matter, with an earnestrecommendation to the General to keep his name out of the affair. "Why not?" said Ratoneau. "You only reminded me of what I knew before. In fact, it was through me you heard of it. I startled your brother withit; our dear Prefect would never have said a word on the subject--ha, ha! So I owe you no gratitude, monsieur. You have done nothing. " "Ah, but just a little gratitude, if you please, " said Urbain, smiling. "Enough to shut your ears to any reports that may reach you about mybrother Joseph. " Ratoneau looked at him sharply, and frowned. "I can make no bargains as to my duty, monsieur. Let your brother beloyal. " "I do my utmost to make him so, " said Urbain, still smiling, and theyparted. "He is right--the man is right--and by heaven, I respect him!" Urbainsaid to himself as he crossed the square. Passing near the great gate of the Prefecture, he noticed a policeofficer loitering on the pavement, whose dark, keen, discontented faceseemed not unknown to him. As Urbain came nearer, this man raised his hand to his cap, and spokewith an impudent grin. "Monsieur de la Marinière has been making peace with Monsieur le GénéralRatoneau? It was a difficult matter, I bet! Monsieur has beensuccessful?" Urbain looked at the man steadily. He was not easily made angry. "Who are you, my friend? and what do you mean?" he said. "I am Simon, the police agent, monsieur. The affair rather interestedme. I was there. " "What affair?" "Your son's affair with the General. That droll adventure of the cattlein the lane--your cattle, monsieur, and it was your son's fault that theGeneral was thrown. Monsieur heard of it, surely?" "You are mistaken, " Monsieur Urbain replied quietly. "It was anaccident; it was not my son's fault. Nobody has ever thought of it ormentioned it since. It was nothing. " "General Ratoneau did not think it nothing. All we who were there, wesaw the droll side of it, but he did not. He swore he would have hisrevenge on Monsieur Angelot, as they call him. He has not forgotten it, monsieur. Only last night, his servant told me, when he came back fromdining at Lancilly, he was swearing about it again. " "Let him swear!" said Urbain, under his breath. Then his eyes dwelt a moment on Simon, who looked the very incarnationof malice and mischief, and he smiled benignly. "Merci, Monsieur Simon, " he said. "We are fortunate in having you towatch over us. But do not let this anxiety trouble you. I have just beenspending some time with General Ratoneau, as you appear to know. We arethe best of friends, and if my son irritated him the other day, I thinkhe has forgotten it. " "So much the better, " grinned Simon, "for Monsieur le Général would notbe a pleasant enemy. " Then, as Urbain was walking on, he detained him. "Everybody must respect Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière, " he said. "Hehas a difficult position. If certain eyes were not wilfully shut, serious things might happen in his family. And we sometimes askourselves, we of the police, whether closed eyes at headquarters oughtto mean a silent tongue all round. How does it strike you, monsieur?" Urbain hesitated a moment. He had done a certain amount of bribery inhis day, for the sake of those he loved, but his native good sense andobstinacy alike arose against being blackmailed by a police spy, asubordinate official at best. The fellow could not do Joseph much harm, he thought, the Prefect being friendly, and the General likely to be aconnection. And Joseph must in the future be loyal, as the General said. No; he might as well keep his napoleons in his pocket. "I really have no time to discuss the subject, " he said. "The police, like every one else, must do their duty according to their lights. Good-day, Monsieur Simon. " He touched his hat and walked on. Simon looked after him, mutteringviciously. After some minutes, a clash of arms from the opposite hotel archway drewhis attention. The sentries were saluting the General as he came out, now in full uniform, and followed by two orderlies, while a third wentbefore to announce him at the Prefecture. Ratoneau looked every inch a soldier, broad, sturdy, and swaggering, ashe clanked across the square. Simon noticed with surprise that his facewas bright with most unusual good-humour. "Why, what can that grinning monkey have been saying to him?" Simonasked himself. "Licking the dust off his boots somehow, for that is whathe likes, the parvenu! They are like cats, those La Marinières! theyalways know how to please everybody, and to get their own way. It seemsto me they want a lesson. " He moved a little nearer to the great gates, and watched the General ashe walked in. The bell clanged, the sentries saluted, the gates were setopen ceremoniously. With all his frank, soldierly ways, Ratoneau wasextremely jealous of his position and the respect due to it. ThePrefect, on the contrary, aimed at simplicity and liked solitude. Hiswife had died some years before, not surviving the death of her parents, guillotined in the Terror. If she had lived, her influence being verygreat, Monsieur de Mauves might never have held his present appointment;for her royalism was quite as pronounced as that of Anne de la Marinièreand might have overpowered her husband's admiration for Napoleon. Andthis would have been a pity, for no part of France, at this time, had awiser or more acceptable governor. On that calm and sunny autumn afternoon, the Prefect was sitting in aclassically pillared summerhouse near the open windows of his library. Late roses climbed and clustered above his amiable head; lines of orangetrees in square green boxes were set along the broad gravel terraceoutside, and there was a pleasant view down a walk to a playing fountainwith trees about it, beyond which some of the high grey roofs of Sonnayshone in the sunlight. The Prefect never smoked; his snuff-box and a book were enough for him. Monsieur de Chateaubriand's _Itinéraire de Paris a Jérusalem_, justpublished in three volumes, lay on a marble table beside him, and he wasenjoying an hour of unusual peace and quietness, his only companions twolittle greyhounds sleeping at his feet. [Illustration: "AN ORDER FROM THE EMPEROR!" HE REPEATED. ] It was with a touch of mental annoyance, therefore, that he received theannouncement of General Ratoneau's visit. But he was far too wellbred to show a sign of such feeling. He left that to the little dogs, who barked their disapproval. He closed his book, went to meet theGeneral in the library, and invited him out to his favourite seat in thesummer-house. They were an odd contrast as they sat there together; thequiet, graceful gentleman in ordinary morning dress of an easydescription, the soldier, impatient and rough in manner, flashing atevery point with gold lace and polished leather. "Monsieur le Préfet, I have a favour to ask, " Ratoneau began. He did not often speak so civilly, and the Prefect felt relieved, for hehad had more than one bad quarter of an hour with this colleague of his. "How can I oblige you, Monsieur le Général?" he asked, smiling. "By doing your duty, " said Ratoneau, with a grin. The Prefect shrugged his shoulders slightly, raised his eyebrows andlooked at him. "I ought not, " he said, "to need the additional inducement of doing youa favour. I was not aware of having neglected any duty. To what, pray, do you refer?" "I refer to an order from the Emperor which you have not obeyed. " "Indeed?" The Prefect's smile had now quite faded. "An order from the Emperor!" herepeated. "Yes. His Majesty ordered you to report to him the names andparticulars of all young girls of good family in the department. " "And what of that, monsieur?" "I am quite sure you have not done so. " Something in the General's tone was so displeasing to one of thePrefect's little dogs, that it suddenly sprang up and snapped at him. Its master just saved it from a kick by catching it up on his knee. "A bas, Toutou!" he said, softly stroking it, and took a pinch of snuff, regarding the General with a curiously patient expression. "I know you have done nothing of the sort!" Ratoneau repeated. "And how, may I ask, does the matter interest you?" The Prefect spoke slowly and gently; yet something in his mannerirritated the General. He made an impatient movement and rattled hissword. "It does interest me, " he said. "How can you disobey an order from theEmperor?" "As to that, my dear colleague, I am responsible. You know the view Itake of that order. I am not alone. Several of my brother Prefects agreewith me. It is impolitic, and worse, offensive. The Emperor isreasonable, and does not expect a blind obedience which would really doharm to the Empire. " "Do not make too sure of that, Monsieur le Préfet. " "If the old provincial families are to be brought round _en masse_ tothe Empire, it must be done by diplomacy, not by a tyrannical domesticlegislation. " "At that rate, Monsieur le Préfet, the work will take a hundred years. They laugh at your diplomacy, these infernal old families. Propose asoldier as a husband for one of their daughters, and you will see. " "I have not done so, " the Prefect said very drily, and the glance thatshot from under his quiet eyelids might have made a thin-skinned personuncomfortable. "And nothing would make you do so, I suppose, " sneered the General. "Come, monsieur, you should forget your aristocracy now and then, andremember that you are a servant of the Emperor. People will begin to saythat His Majesty might be better served. " Monsieur de Mauves shrugged his shoulders, and reflected that if theEmperor had wished to punish him for some crime, he could not have doneit better than by giving him this person for a colleague. Fortunately hehad a splendid temper; Urbain de la Marinière himself was not endowedwith a larger share of sweet reasonableness. Most men would not haveendured the General's insolence for five minutes. The Prefect's love ofpeace and sense of public duty, united with extreme fairness of mind, helped him to make large allowances for his fellow-official. He knewthat Ratoneau's vapouring talk was oftener in coarse joke than in soberearnest. He had, in truth, a very complete scorn of him, and hardlythought him worthy of a gentleman's steel. As to veiled threats such asthat which had just fallen from his lips, the Prefect found themaltogether beneath serious notice. "Let us arrive at understanding each other, General, " he said coldly, but very politely. "You began by asking me to do you a favour. Then youbranched off to a duty I had neglected. You now give me a friendlywarning. Is it, perhaps, because you fear to lose me as a colleague, that you have become anxious about my reports to His Majesty?" hesmiled. "Or, how, I ask again, does the matter interest you?" "In this way, Monsieur le Préfet, " said Ratoneau. He pulled himselftogether, keeping his bullying instincts in check. After all, he knew hewould be a fool to quarrel with the Prefect or to rouse his activeopposition. "No offence?" he said gruffly. "You know me--you know myrough tongue. " The Prefect bowed courteously, and handed him his snuff-box. "You saw last night at Lancilly, " said Ratoneau, much more quietly, "that I had a long talk with Madame la Comtesse. " "A charming woman, " said Monsieur de Mauves. "Certainly--you told me thesubject of your talk, if you remember. Did you arrive then at anyconclusion? What was our hostess's advice on that interesting subject?Did she suggest--the name of any lady, for instance?" He noticed with a touch of amusement that the General looked slightlyconfused. "_I_ made a suggestion; and Madame de Sainfoy accepted it very kindly. In fact, Monsieur le Préfet, I asked her for her daughter, MademoiselleHélène. " Monsieur de Mauves knew that he ought to have been prepared for thisanswer; yet, somehow, he was not. Fixing his eyes on the yellow marblemosaic under his feet, he realised once more the frightful contrast thathad struck him a few hours before in the lighted salon at Lancilly. "Labelle Hélène, " as everybody called her; the pale, beautiful girl withthe sad eyes and enchanting smile, walking through the long room withher boy cousin, himself in his slender _élancé_ beauty a perfect matchfor her, so that the eighteenth century might have painted them as twoyoung deities from the Court of Olympus, come down to earth to showmortals a vision of the ideal! And General Ratoneau, the ponderous bullyin uniform, the incarnation of the Empire's worst side! "Sacrilege!" Last night, the Prefect had thought the same. But he had then added"Impossible!" and now it seemed that the girl's mother did not agreewith him. Could ambition carry a woman through such a slough as this?did she really mean to gain imperial favour by such a sacrifice? For a moment or two the Prefect was lost in a dream; then he suddenlyrecovered himself. "Pardon--and you say that Madame de Sainfoy accepted--" "She thanked me for the honour, " said the General, a little stiffly. "She expressed herself favourably. She only asked me to have patiencetill she could consult her husband. Between ourselves, madame knows thatI could be of use to her at Court. " "Could you?" "Certainly, Monsieur le Préfet. My friend, the Baron de Beauclair, is anequerry to Her Majesty the Empress. " "Oh!" Evidently the Prefect knew and cared little about the Baron deBeauclair. "But, Monsieur le Général, " he said, with a puzzled frown, "Iam still at a loss to understand you. Your course is apparently smooth. Why do you want the help of an imperial order which, if it did no otherharm, would almost certainly set Monsieur de Sainfoy against you?" Ratoneau's dark face flushed crimson. "Mille tonnerres, Monsieur lePréfet, " he growled out, "Monsieur de Sainfoy is against me already, confound him! This afternoon he sent me a letter, flatly declining myproposal for his daughter. " "Is it possible!" The Prefect had some difficulty in hiding the sincere, if inconsistent, joy that this news gave him. "Well done!" he thought. "I should have expected nothing less. Ah! Isee, I see, " he said aloud. "Monsieur de Sainfoy does not quite sharehis wife's ambitions. It is unfortunate for you, certainly. But if youwish to marry into an old family, there are others--" Ratoneau stared at him and laughed. "What do you take me for? Am I beaten so easily? No, monsieur!Mademoiselle de Sainfoy is the woman I mean to marry. I admire thatwhite skin, that perfect distinction. You will not put me off with someugly little brown toad out of Brittany, I assure you!" The Prefect laughed. "But what is to be done? Unless you can gain her father's consent--" "That is the favour you will do me, Monsieur le Préfet. You will writeto headquarters, do you see, and an order will be sent down--yes, anorder which her father would not disobey if he were a dozen dukes rolledinto one, instead of being what he is, a poor emigrant count helped backinto France by wiser men than himself! Voilà, monsieur! Do youunderstand me now?" "Ah--yes, General, I understand you, " said Monsieur de Mauves. He leaned back in the corner of the marble seat, calm and deliberate, gently stroking the little dog on his knee. Those long white fingers hadlifted the lid of Henriette's basket, those keen eyes, now thoughtfullylowered, had seen the hiding-place of the Chouans in Monsieur Joseph'swood; yet no harm had come to the Royalist conspirators. And now, whenan official of the Empire asked his help in a private matter, helpstrictly legal, even within the limits of an imperial command, againthis blameworthy Prefect would not stir a finger. He was running himselfinto greater danger than he knew, in the satisfaction of his gentleinstincts, when he glanced up into the bold, angry, eager face besidehim, and said with uncompromising clearness: "Do not deceive yourself, monsieur. I shall not write to headquarters on any such subject, and nosuch order will be sent down through any action or influence of mine. The Comte de Sainfoy is my friend, remember. " Ratoneau was choking with rage. "You defy me, monsieur!" he snarled. "Why--if such a desperate course is necessary, " the Prefect murmured. "But I would rather reason with you. " CHAPTER XIII HOW MONSIEUR SIMON SHOWED HIMSELF A LITTLE TOO CLEVER General Ratoneau had gone into the Prefecture in a good humour; he cameout in a bad one. The change was not lost on the police agent, stillloitering under the shade of the high white wall. Simon was a malcontent. He had talent, he wanted power. No one wascleverer at hunting out the details of a case; he was a born detective. It was hard on such a man, who intended to rise high in his profession, and found the spying and chasing of state criminals an agreeable duty, to be under the orders of so weak-kneed an official as the Baron deMauves. What was the use of giving in reports that were never acted on!In other departments there were substantial money rewards to be had, ifa police spy, at his own risk, hunted out treason against the Empire. Inother departments a Prefect made it worth while, in every sense, for hissubordinates to do their duty. In this one, since the present Prefectcame into office, there was neither rising pay nor quick promotion. Hedrove with a slack rein; his weapons were trust and kindness. He had tobe driven to extremities before he would treat anybody, even a provedChouan, with the rigour of the law. Simon tried to do a littleterrorising on his own account, and had made some money by blackmailingless wide-awake men than Urbain de la Marinière; but, on the whole, heearned more hatred than anything else in his prowlings round thecountry. Ratoneau, coming out with a sulky, scowling face from his interview withthe Prefect, happened to look up as he passed Simon, and the fellow'sexpression struck him oddly. It was full of intelligence, and of a queerkind of sympathy. He had noticed it before. Simon had made himselfuseful to him in several underhand ways. "What do you want?" he said, stopping suddenly. Simon stepped up close to him, so that neither sentries nor passers-bymight hear. "Me? I want nothing. I was only thinking that Monsieur le Général hadbeen annoyed. A thousand pardons! I was only wondering--well, I have myprovocations too, plenty of them!" "I'll be bound you have, in such a service as yours, " said the General, staring at him. "Come to the hotel this evening, and I'll talk to you. " The officers who dined that day with their chief found his company lessattractive than ever. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts, and tojudge by his face, they were anything but agreeable. The whole mess wasglad to be relieved of his scowling presence unusually early. He haddrunk little, and went away unusually sober; but that was not always agood sign with him. If he chose to keep a clear brain, it was generallyfor his own ends, and they were seldom virtuous or desirable. The General was scarcely in his own room when Simon presented himself, sneaking upstairs with a light tread and slipping noiselessly throughthe door, his dark face full of eager expectation. He had often wonderedwhether there might not be some special dirty work to be done for theGeneral, and had taken pains to keep himself under his eye and in hisgood looks. If the civil power chose to let the Chouans have it alltheir own way, the military power might one of these days step ineffectively. But Simon was not particular. Whatever the work might be, public or private, he was at the service of the authorities. If only theauthorities would take his view of their interest and duty! It was a little difficult to stand unmoved under General Ratoneau'sbullying stare. Simon did so, however, his mouth only working a littleat the corners. How far might he go with this man? he was askinghimself. Ratoneau did not keep him long in suspense. He suddenly tookhis cigar from his mouth, swore a tremendous oath, and kicked a chairacross the room. "Are you to be trusted, fellow?" he said. "I have kept a few secrets, monsieur, " Simon answered discreetly. "Then here is another for you. I wish that chair was Monsieur le Baronde Mauves. " "Ah! Indeed! There has been some disagreement. I saw it, when Monsieurle Général came out of the Prefecture this afternoon. " "You saw it, did you? No wonder! I try to hide nothing--why should I?But tell me, I beseech you, why are we in this miserable departmentcursed with a feather-bed for a governor?" "If I might venture in this presence to say so, " murmured Simon, "I haveoften asked the same question. A feather-bed, yes--and it would besofter and quieter to kick than that arrangement of wood and nails!" Hemuttered the last sentence between his teeth with an amused grin, forGeneral Ratoneau, striding round the room in a whirlwind of kicks andoaths, was making far too much noise to hear him. At last, his wrath having exploded, the General flung himself back onhis sofa and said, "The Prefect is a fool, and I hate him. " "Tiens!" Simon whistled softly and long. "This is something new--andserious!" he murmured. The General turned upon him instantly, with a severe air. "What is your grievance against the Prefect?" "Ah--well, monsieur, when you come to grievances--a grievance is avaluable thing--yes, sometimes a small fortune lies in a grievance. " "I believe you are a liar!" "Pardon, monsieur--what lie have I told?" "You said you had had provocations. You called Monsieur le Préfet afeather-bed, meaning that he had smothered and stifled you. I don'tbelieve a word of it!" "Oh! Monsieur le Général is very clever!" Simon ventured on a smalllaugh. "Come, don't play with me, you rascal. What complaint have you to make?" "Monsieur le Général may have had a slight difference to-day withMonsieur le Préfet, but they will be reconciled to-morrow. Why should Igive myself away and put myself in their power for nothing?" "You are a fool! What complaint have you to make against Monsieur lePréfet?" "I am not a fool, monsieur. That is just it. Therefore, I will not tellyou--not yet, at least. " "Then why did you come here? What did you suppose I wanted you for?" "To do some work, for which I might possibly be paid. " "Is it a question of pay?" "Partly, monsieur. I made some valuable discoveries a week or two ago, and they have turned out of no use whatever. Here am I still an ordinarypolice officer, my work not acknowledged in any way, by praise, pay, orpromotion. I tried on my own account to verify my discoveries and tofind out more. This day, this very morning, I am warned to let the wholething alone, to say nothing, even to the commissary of police. " The General hesitated. He was grave and thoughtful enough now. He took out five napoleons and pushed them across the table to Simon, who picked them up quickly and greedily. "Merci, Monsieur le Général!" "Chouannerie?" said Ratoneau. Simon grinned. "Ah, monsieur, this is not enough to make me safe. I must have fivethousand francs at least, to carry me away out of the Prefect's reach, if I tell his little secrets to Monsieur le Général. " "Five thousand devils! Do you think I am made of money? What do I wantwith your miserable secrets? What are the Chouans to me? The Prefect maybe a Chouan himself, I dare say: stranger things have happened. " Simon shrugged his shoulders. His face was full of cunning and of secretknowledge. "If Monsieur le Général wants a real hold over Monsieur le Préfet, " hesaid, with his eyes fixed on Ratoneau's face--"why then, these secretsof mine are worth the money. Of course, there is another thing for me todo. I can go to Paris and lay the whole thing before the Minister ofPolice or Monsieur le Comte Réal. I had thought of that. But--theGovernment is generally ungrateful--and if there were any privateservice to be done for Monsieur le Général, I should like it better. Besides, it is just possible that I might be doing harm to some of yourfriends, monsieur. " "My friends? How?" "Ah! voilà! I can mention no names, " said Simon. The General took out his pocket-book and gave him a note for a thousandfrancs. "Out with it, fellow. I hate mysteries, " he said. "Pardon, Monsieur le Général! I said _five_ thousand. " "Well, there are two more. Not another penny till you have explainedyourself. And then, if I am not satisfied, I shall turn you over to myguard to be flogged for theft and lying. And I doubt if they will leavemuch in your pockets. " "You treat me like a Jew, monsieur!" "You are a Jew. Go on. What are these grand discoveries that Monsieur lePréfet will have nothing to do with?" "A Chouan plot, monsieur. The conspirators have met, more than once, Ibelieve, at Monsieur de la Marinière's house, Les Chouettes. They werethere that day, when Monsieur le Préfet and Monsieur le Généralbreakfasted with him. That day when we met a herd of cows in thelane--" "Hold your tongue, you scoundrel. You are telling me a pack of lies. Theplace was quiet and empty, no one there but ourselves. Why, we strolledabout there the whole afternoon without seeing a single living creatureexcept a little girl gathering flowers in the meadow. " "Ah, monsieur! See what it is to be an agent de police. To have eyes andears, and to know how to use them! Worth a reward, is it not? I had notbeen an hour at Les Chouettes before I knew everything. " And five minutes had not passed before General Ratoneau was inpossession of all that Simon knew or suspected. Every one wasimplicated; master, servants, the four guests, whose voices he hadrecognised as he prowled in the wood, Angelot, and even the childHenriette. "Gathering flowers in the meadow!" the spy laughed maliciously. "Sheought to be in prison at this moment with her father and her cousin. " "Sapristi! And the Prefect knew all this?" growled the General. "I told him at the time, monsieur. As he was strolling about afterbreakfast with Monsieur de la Marinière, I called him aside and toldhim. Of course I expected an order to arrest the whole party. We werearmed, we could have done it very well, even then, though theyoutnumbered us. Since then I have viewed the ground again, and caughtthe Baron d'Ombré breakfasting there, the most desperate Chouan in theseparts. I questioned old Joubard the farmer, too, for his loyalty isnone too firm. Well, when I came to report this to Monsieur le Préfet, he only told me again to be silent. And this very morning, afterconferring with some of these Chouan gentlemen last night at Lancilly, as I happen to know, he told me to let the matter alone, to keep awayfrom Les Chouettes and leave Monsieur de la Marinière to do as hepleased. " The General stared and grunted. Honestly, he was very much astonished. "That afternoon! The devil! who would have thought it?" he muttered tohimself. "It is not that Monsieur le Préfet is disloyal to the Empire, " Simonwent on, "though he might easily be made to appear so. It is that hethinks there is no policy like a merciful one. Also he is toosoft-hearted, and too kind to his friends. " "By heaven! those are fortunate who find him so. " "The old friends of the country, monsieur. It is amazing how they hangtogether. Monsieur Joseph de la Marinière is brother of Monsieur Urbain, Monsieur Ange is Monsieur Urbain's son, Monsieur le Comte de Sainfoy istheir cousin--and I heard the servants saying, only last night, howbeautiful the two young people looked, handing the coffeetogether--though I should certainly have thought, myself, that Monsieurle Comte would have made a better marriage than that for his daughter. But they say the young gentleman's face--" "Stop your fool's chatter!" cried the General, furiously. "But that is just what I said, monsieur, to the Prefect's fellow whotold me. I said this young Angelot was a silly boy who cared for nothingbut practical jokes. Besides, if he is mixed up in Chouan conspiracies, Monsieur de Sainfoy could hardly afford--and after all, cousins arecousins. You may be very intimate with a cousin, but it does notfollow--does it, monsieur?" "Once for all, put that foolery out of your head. Now listen. You havetold me your grievance against the Prefect. I will tell you mine. " And the police officer listened with all his ears, while GeneralRatoneau told him his story of last night and to-day. "Ah!" he said thoughtfully--"I see--I see very well. Monsieur le Comteis a foolish gentleman, and Madame la Comtesse is a wise lady. ThenMonsieur Urbain de la Marinière--he is the friend of both--he visitedMonsieur le Général to-day. " This was a touch of curiosity, which the General did not satisfy, for hesaw no good to be gained, at present, by mixing up Urbain's name in thebusiness. He had made a good suggestion, which had failed. The Generalwas aware that in consulting Simon he might be entering on dark wayswhere no gentleman would follow him. Simon's help might mean a gooddeal. It might mean arrests rather too near Monsieur Urbain to bepleasant. On one thing the General was resolved; by hook or by crook, byfair means or foul, Hélène de Sainfoy should become his wife. With hermother on his side, he suspected that any means would in the end beforgiven. He was never likely again to have such an opportunity ofmarrying into the old noblesse. Personally, Hélène attracted him; he hadbeen thinking of her a good deal that day. "Monsieur de la Marinière--" he said rather gruffly--"Yes, he came tosee me. He is of Madame de Sainfoy's opinion--he is a sensible man. Noone would be more angry at your idiotic stories about his son. Now whatnext? I come down on the Prefect with your information, and demand thearrest of all these people, unless--hein?" "There are objections to that plan, monsieur. " "What are they?" "Well, to begin with, Monsieur le Préfet may not be managed so easily. He is quite capable of going to Paris and laying the whole case beforethe Emperor, who respects him. He might point out Monsieur Joseph de laMarinière's close relationship with all these people who have rallied tothe Empire. He might make it appear like personal spite of yours, monsieur, because Monsieur de Sainfoy had refused you his daughter. Andsuch a course would spoil your chance in another way, monsieur. It wouldmake all the family hate you. Even Madame la Comtesse could hardly be onyour side, if you had done that. And besides, it would kill at one blowall my chances in this department. I think we must go to work morequietly, monsieur. At least, I think we must keep threats and arrestsfor a last resort, now that you have told me everything. " "Then you would say no more to the Prefect?" "Not another word, monsieur. I would be silent. I would appear to acceptthe Prefect's decision, and Monsieur de Sainfoy's answer. But after afew days I would make some pretext for going to Paris. I am going theremyself next week; I have leave to visit my old father. Then, monsieur, by spending a little money at the centre of things--well, a thunderboltout of a clear sky is very effective, monsieur, and that is what we willtry to manufacture. " Simon grinned and licked his lips. "Then what have I paid you three thousand one hundred francs for, rascal, if the information about all this Chouannerie is to be of nouse?" "Well, of course, it is at Monsieur le Général's service. It gives him ahold over Monsieur le Préfet, at any time. That was desired, Iunderstood. All I say is, I would not use it just yet. The circumstancesare delicate. When I sold the information, and dirt cheap too, I knewnothing of all the interesting romance Monsieur le Général has told me. An affair of marriage wants tender handling. This one, especially, wantsvery clever management. If I, in Monsieur le Général's place, meant tobe the husband of Mademoiselle de Sainfoy, I would not begin by doinganything to make myself still more odious in the eyes of her friends andrelations. " "Still more odious, fellow! What do you mean?" "Pardon! I am only arguing from your own words, monsieur. You told mewhat her father said, and what Monsieur le Préfet said. One makes one'sdeductions, hein!" "Ah! You had better not be impudent. I am not a person to be playedwith, Monsieur Simon!" "Heaven forbid! I have the deepest respect for Monsieur le Général. Andnow let me explain my plan a little further. " "Hold your tongue with your infernal plans, and let me think, " saidRatoneau. He got up and began pacing up and down the room with his head bent, in amost unusually thoughtful state of mind. The dark, treacherous eyes ofSimon followed him as he walked. His brain was working too, much moreswiftly and sharply than the General's. This little affair was going tobring him in considerably more than five thousand francs, or he wouldknow the reason why. Presently he spoke in a low, cautious voice. "The person to approach is Monsieur le Duc de Frioul. A direct orderfrom His Majesty would be the quickest and most certain way of bringingthe marriage about. It is not a police question, that. Monsieur leGénéral has certainly deserved the favour, and the Emperor does not veryoften refuse officers in matters of this kind. " "Mille tonnerres, Simon, you talk like an ambassador, " said Ratoneau, with a laugh. "Yes, I know Duroc; but there was never any love lostbetween us. However, I might get at him through Monge, and other people. Sapristi, Monge will have enough to do for me!" He was thinking aloud. But now he turned on his counsellor with sudden fierceness. "And am I to leave this Chouan plot to go its own way under thePrefect's protection?" he said. "A pretty idea, that!" "Ah! when once Monsieur le Général has peacefully secured his prize, _then_ he can do as he thinks right about public affairs, " said Simon, with a sneer. "Then I can punish my enemies, hein?" said Ratoneau. "You can indeed, monsieur. With my information, you might very probablyruin Monsieur le Préfet, besides causing the arrest of Monsieur de laMarinière, his nephew, Monsieur d'Ombré, and several other gentlemenwhom I shall be able to point out. You could make a clean sweep ofChouannerie in Anjou, monsieur. It is very desirable. All I say is, make sure of your wife first. " Still Ratoneau walked up and down the room. With arms folded and headbent, he looked more _le gros caporal_ than ever. Presently he stopped short and turned to Simon. "Get along with you, fellow, and hold your tongue, " he said. "I willhave nothing to do with your dirty tricks. I will settle the matter withMonsieur le Préfet. " "But me, monsieur? What will become of me?" "What do I care! A snake in the grass, like you, can look afterhimself. " "But my other two thousand francs, Monsieur le Général?" "You shall have them when the affair is settled. Do you hear me? Go--orwait to be kicked. Which shall it be?" CHAPTER XIV IN WHICH THREE WORDS CONTAIN A GOOD DEAL OF INFORMATION It was not so easy for Angelot to make his peace with Uncle Joseph, whowas more than a little angry with him. "Yes, my boy, you were foolish, as well as ungrateful. It was a chance, it was a moment, that will not occur again. It was better that the ideashould seem to come from me, not from you, and it seemed the only way tosave that pretty girl from some marriage she will hate. I thought youwould at least be ready to throw yourself at her feet--but you were noteven that, Angelot. You refused her--you refused Mademoiselle Hélène, after all you had told me--and do you know what that mother of hers hasbeen planning for her? No? Don't look at me with such eyes; it is yourown doing. Madame de Sainfoy would arrange a marriage for her withGeneral Ratoneau, if Hervé would consent. He says he will not, he says aconvent would be better--" "Ah!" Angelot gave a choked cry, and stamped violently in the sand. "Ah!Ratoneau or a convent! Dieu! Not while I live!" "Very fine to say so now!" said Monsieur Joseph, shaking his head. He was ready to go out shooting in the fresh morning air. His gun leanedagainst the bench where he was sitting, and his dog watched him witheager eyes. His delicate face was dark with melancholy disgust as helooked at the boy he loved, tramping restlessly up and down between himand the fir trees. "You don't listen to me, Uncle Joseph; you don't understand me!" Angelotcried out passionately. "What do you take me for? It was for her sakethat I answered as I did. It was because she had told me, one minutebefore, that her mother would kill her if she knew that she--that I--" He sprang to the bench, threw himself down by Monsieur Joseph, flung hisarm around his shoulders. "Ah, little uncle, voyons, tell me everything. You said you would helpme--" "Help you! I am well repaid when I try to help you!" said Joseph, with ashort laugh. "But that was not the way! Come, come!" and Angelot laid his headagainst the little uncle's shoulder, coaxing and caressing him as hemight have done ten years before, as Riette would do now. "Ah, diable! what would you have? I offered them you in the place ofRatoneau or a convent, and you would not even wait to hear what theysaid. Nonsense about her mother! Mothers do not kill their children inthese days. Mademoiselle is a little extravagant. " "I don't believe it. She knows her mother. I think Madame de Sainfoywould stop at nothing--no ill-treatment--to force her own way. I saw itin her face, I met her eyes when you dragged me into the room. UncleJoseph, I tell you she hates me already, and if she thinks I am anobstacle to her plans, she will never let me see Hélène again. " "Where were you, then, when I called you, good-for-nothing?" "I was on the stairs, talking to her. Her mother had sent her out of theroom--" "On my word, you snatch your opportunities!" "Of course! And when you were young--" "There--no impertinence--" "Dear uncle, I asked you days ago to talk to my father and mother. Whydid you never do it? Then I might have been beforehand with that man--asto him, of course, he is an utter impossibility, and if Cousin Hervésees that, we are safe--but still--" "Ah! there is a 'but' in the affair, I assure you. Madame would doanything for a nearer connection with her beloved Empire--and Ratoneaumight be Napoleon's twin-brother, but that is a detail--and not onlymadame, your father is on the same side. " "My father!" "He thinks there could not be a more sensible marriage. The daughter ofthe Comte de Sainfoy--a distinguished general of division; diable! whatcan anybody want more? So my Angelot, I was not a false prophet, itseems to me, when I felt very sure that what you asked me was hopeless. Your father would have been against you, for the sake of the Sainfoys;your mother, for opposite reasons. There was one chance, Hervé himself. I saw that he was very angry at the Ratoneau proposal; I thought hemight snatch at an alternative. I still think he might have done so, ifyou had not behaved like a maniac. It was the moment, Angelot; suchmoments do not return. I was striking while the iron was hot--you, youonly, made my idea useless. You made me look even more mad and foolishthan yourself--not that I cared for that. As to danger from her mother, why, after all, her father is the authority. " "Ah, but you are too romantic, " sighed Angelot. "He would never haveaccepted me. He would never really oppose his wife, if her mind was setagainst him. " "He opposes her now. He plainly said that his daughter should marry agentleman, therefore not Ratoneau. And where have all your finepresumptuous hopes flown to, my boy? The other day you found yourselfgood enough for Mademoiselle Hélène. " "Perhaps I do still, " Angelot said, and laughed. "But I did not thenquite understand the Comtesse. I know now that she detests me. Then, too, she had not seen or thought of Ratoneau--Dieu! What profanation!Was it quite new, the terrible idea? I saw the brute--pah! We werehanding the coffee--" "Yes, " said Monsieur Joseph. "As far as I know, the seed was sown, theplant grew and flowered, all in that one evening, my poor Angelot. Well--I hope all is safe now, but women are very clever, and there isyour father, too--he is very clever. If it is not this marriage, it willbe another--but you are not interested now; you have put yourself out ofthe question. " "Don't say that, Uncle Joseph--and don't imagine that your troubles areover. You will have to do a good deal more for me yet, and for Hélène. "He spoke slowly and dreamily, then added with a gesture of despair--"Butmy father--how could he! Why, the very sight of the man--" "Ah! Very poetical, your dear father, but not very sentimental. I toldhim so. He said the best poetry was the highest good sense. I do notquite understand him, I confess. Allons! I am afraid I do. He is aphilosopher. He also--well, well!" "He also--what?" "Nothing, " said Monsieur Joseph, shortly. "What is to be done then, tohelp you?" "I am afraid--for her sake--I must not go quite so much to Lancilly. Notfor a few days, at least, till last night is forgotten. I cannot meether before all those people, with their eyes upon me. I believe Madamede Sainfoy saw that I was lying, that I would give my life for what Iseemed to refuse. " "Do you think so? No, no, she laughed and teased and questioned me withthe others. " "Nevertheless, I think so. But I must know that Hélène is well and safeand not tormented. Uncle Joseph, if you could go there a littleoftener--you might see her sometimes--" "How often?" "Every two days, for instance?" Monsieur Joseph smiled sweetly. "No, mon petit. What should take me to Lancilly every two days? I havenot much to say to Hervé; his ideas are not mine, either on sport or onpolitics. And as to Madame Adélaïde--no--we do not love each other. Sheis impatient of me--I distrust her. She has Urbain, and one in thefamily is enough, I think. Voyons! Would your Mademoiselle Moineau doany harm to Riette?" "Ah! But no! I believe she is a most excellent woman. " "Only a little sleepy--hein? Well, I will change my mind about thatoffer I refused. I will send Riette every day to learn needlework andItalian with her cousins. She will teach more than she learns, by thebye! Yes, our little _guetteuse_ shall watch for you, Angelot. But onone condition--that she knows no more than she does already. You can askher what questions you please, of course--but no letters or messages, mind; I trust to your honour. I will not have the child made ago-between in my cousin's house, or mixed up with matters too old forher. She knows enough already to do what you want, to tell you thatMademoiselle Hélène is safe and well. I will have nothing more, youunderstand. But I think you will be wise to keep away, and this plan maymake absence bearable. " He turned his anxious, smiling face to Angelot. And thus the entirereconciliation was brought about; the two understood and loved eachother better than ever before, and Riette, as she had herself suggested, was to take her part in helping Angelot. Neither Monsieur Urbain, in his great discretion, nor his wife, in herextreme dislike of Lancilly and all connected with it, chose to say aword either to Angelot or his uncle about the strange little scene thathad closed the dinner-party. It was better forgotten, they thought. AndAngelot was too proud, too conscious of their opinion, to speak of ithimself. So the three talked that night about Sonnay-le-Loir and the marketsthere, and about the neighbours that Urbain had met, and about certaindefects in one of his horses, and then about the coming vintage and itsprospects. Urbain fetched down a precious book, considerably out of date now, the_Théâtre d'Agriculture_ of Olivier de Serres, Seigneur du Pradel, andbegan studying, as he did every year, the practical advice of thatexcellent writer on the management of vineyards. The experience ofAngelot, gained chiefly in wandering round the fields with old Joubard, differed on some points from that of Monsieur de Serres. He argued withhis father, not at all in the fashion of a young man hopelessly in love;but indeed, though Hélène was the centre of all his thoughts, he was farfrom hopeless. There was a bright spring of life in Angelot, a faith in the future, which kept him above the most depressing circumstances. The waves mightseem overwhelming, the storm too furious; Angelot would ride on thewaves with an unreasoning certainty that they would finally toss him onthe shore of Paradise. Had not Hélène kissed him? Could he not stillfeel the sweet touch of her lips, the velvet softness of that palecheek? Could his eyes lose the new dream in their sleepy dark depths, the dream of waking smiles and light in hers, of bringing colour and joyinto that grey, mysterious world of sadness! No; whatever the futuremight hold--and he did not fear it--Angelot could say to his fate:-- "To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day. " There was such a glory of happiness behind the present clouds that theboy had never seemed to his mother more light-hearted. She listened tohis talk with his father, the smiling dispute as to what age of the moonwas the most lucky for beginning the vintage. Monsieur de Serres, with akindly word of indulgence for those who thought much of the moon, contented himself with recommending fine weather and a convenient day. Joubard, and Angelot with him, held to the old country superstition ofthe waning moon. This would throw the vintage later than Monsieur Urbain wished, and hepointed out that De Serres was a sensible man and a philosopher. Sillyfancies, lunatical, astrological, were not much in his line. "He is also a Calvinist, " said Madame de la Marinière. "He has noreligion--no real religion. He believes in nothing but what he can see. Take my advice, leave Olivier on the shelf, and stick to the old ways ofthe country. " "Ah, bah! and do you know why my farming has always succeeded?" said herhusband, laughing. "Because I have been guided by the wisdom of DeSerres. He is a rare man. He has as little superstition as Montaignehimself. " "And is as worthy of a bonfire!" said Anne, but she smiled. She was sitting at her tapestry frame, beside her two wax candles, andwhile her needle went industriously in and out, her eyes wereconstantly lifted to where those two sat talking. Urbain turned overthe leaves of his fat, red-edged quarto, lingering lovingly on favouritepages. Angelot laughed and chattered, leaning easily on the table. Theadventure of last night seemed to have left no impression upon him. "How foolish that dear Joseph was!" his mother thought. "But oh, what acontrast to that odious dinner-party! Now, this is peace, this is what Ihave prayed for, to have them both happy at home, and free of Lancilly. " But when she kissed her boy that night, looking eagerly into his face, something cold touched her heart. For his look was far away, and thesmile in his eyes was not for her at all. "Urbain, " she said, "are you sure that all is right with Ange?" "All, my beloved, except a little superstition about the moon, of whichlife will cure him, " her husband answered with his queer smile. "The moon! Yes, he talked last night about the moon, " she said. "That iswhat I mean, Urbain, not your moon for the vintage. " "Oh! la belle Hélène!" he said lightly. "Don't derange yourself. I didnot tell you--I found her mother this morning in a resolute state ofmind. She does not intend to have the young lady on her hands long. Ifnot one marriage, it will be another, you will see. Hervé will find hemust leave the matter to his wife. Ange! bah! children's fancies are notworth a thought. If you lived more in the world, you would be happier, my poor Anne. " "I don't think so, " Anne said as she turned away. The next morning Monsieur Urbain stayed indoors till breakfast time. This was often enough a habit of his, but he was generally buried in hisbooks and did not care to be disturbed. To-day he wandered about thehouse, took a turn into the porch, observed the clouds, looked at hiswatch, and behaved generally with a restlessness that Anne would havefound unaccountable; but she was out with a sick woman in the village. She came in soon after ten, followed by Angelot from his shooting. They sat down to breakfast, that warm day, with doors and windows open. The old, low room with its brick-paved floor was shady and pleasant, opening on the stone court where the porch was; the polished table wasloaded with fruit. Angelot's dog lay stretched in a patch of sunshine;he was ordered out several times, but always came back. When the heatbecame too much he rose panting, and flung his long body into the shade;then the chilly bricks drove him back into the sun again. The three were rather silent. Urbain, who always led their talk, was alittle preoccupied that morning. After finishing his second large sliceof melon, he looked up at Angelot and said, "After breakfast I will gowith you to La Joubardière. We must settle with Joubard about thevintage; it is time things were fixed. I say the first of October. As tohis moons, I cannot listen to such absurdities. He must arrange whatsuits me and the weather and the vines. First of all, me. " "That is decided, " said Angelot, smiling. "Joubard will shake his head, but he will obey you. You are a tyrant in your way. " "Perhaps!" Urbain said, screwing up his mouth. "A benevolent despot. Obedience is good for the soul--n'est-ce pas, madame? I give my commandsfor the good of others, and pure reason lies behind them. What is it, Négo?" The dog lifted his black head and growled. There was a sharp clank offootsteps on the stones outside. "A bas, Négo!" cried Angelot, as a soldier, with a letter in his hand, appeared at the window. The dog sprang up, barking furiously, about to fly at him. "See to your dog! Take him away!" Monsieur Urbain shouted to Angelot. The young man threw himself on the dog and dragged him, snarling, out ofthe room. Anne looked up with surprise at the soldier, who saluted, standing outside the low window-sill. Urbain went to him, and took theletter from his hand. "It is Monsieur de la Marinière?" said the man. "At your service. FromMonsieur le Général. Is there an answer?" "Wait a moment, my man, " said Urbain. He broke the large red seal, standing by the window. One glance showedhim the contents of the letter, for they were only three words and aninitial. --"_Tout va bien. R. _"-- But though the words were few, their significance was great, and it keptthe sturdy master of La Marinière standing motionless for a minute ortwo in a dream, with the open letter in his hand, forgetful alike of themessenger waiting outside, and of his wife behind him at the table. Adark stain of colour stole up into his sunburnt face, his strong mouthquivered, then set itself obstinately. So! this thing was to happen. Treason to Hervé, was it? No, it was for his good, for everybody's good. Sentiment was out of place in a political matter such as this. Sacrificeof a girl? well, what was gained in the world without sacrifice? Let herthink herself Iphigenia, if she chose; but, after all, many girls asnoble and as pretty had shown her the way she was to go. "All goes well!" he muttered between his teeth. "This gentleman isimpatient; he does not let the grass grow. Odd enough that we have tothank our dear Joseph for suggesting it!" Then he woke to outsidethings, among them the waiting soldier, standing there like a woodenimage in the blaze of sunshine. "No answer, my friend, " he said. He took out a five-franc piece and gave it to the man, not without aglance at the splendid Roman head upon it. "He only needs a little idealising!" he said to himself; then aloud tothe soldier: "My best compliments to Monsieur le Général. Go to thekitchen; they will give you something to eat and drink after your ride. " "Merci, monsieur!" the soldier saluted and went. Urbain folded the letter, put it into his pocket, and returned silentlyto his breakfast. Something about him warned his wife that it would bebetter not to ask questions; but Anne seldom observed such warnings, forshe did not know what it was to be afraid of Urbain, though she wasoften angry with him. With Angelot it was different; he had sometimesreason to fear his father; but for Anne, the tenderness was alwaysgreater than the severity. They were alone for a few minutes, Angelot not having reappeared. WhileUrbain hurriedly devoured his sorrel and eggs, his wife gazed at himwith anxious eyes across the table. "You correspond with that odious General!" she said. "What about, mydear friend? What can he have to say to you?" "Ah, bah! the curiosity of women!" said Monsieur Urbain, bending overhis plate. "Yes, " Anne said, smiling faintly. "It exists, and therefore it must begratified. Is not that a doctrine after your own heart? What was thatletter about, tell me? You could not hide that it interested youdeeply. " He shrugged his shoulders. "Remember, we never talk politics, you and I. Not even the politics ofthe department. " "It has something to do with the Chouans, then? With Joseph? Ah, but donot trust that man, Urbain! he has a horrid face. Did you see himyesterday? Did he say anything about Joseph--and about Ange? He has aspite against Ange, I believe. " "Do not be uneasy, " Monsieur Urbain replied. "I did see him yesterday, if you must know, my dear Anne. He is friendly; well, you can see theletter. I do not choose to explain it altogether, but it speaks foritself. " He took out the letter, unfolded it, and handed it to her with a curioussmile. "_Tout va bien!_" Anne read aloud. "What does he mean?" "He means, I suppose, that my mind may be at rest. You see that he is ina good temper. " "It looks like it, certainly. But that is strange, too. Had Hervé deSainfoy sent him an answer? When you saw him, did he know--" "Yes, he knew. " "How did he bear it?" "Like a man. " "Really! One dislikes him a little less for that. But still, Urbain, why should you have anything to do with him? Is it not enough that thePrefect is so friendly to us all? With his protection, Joseph and Angeare not in any real danger. " "It is best to have two strings to one's bow, " answered Urbain. "Iprefer Ratoneau a friend to Ratoneau an enemy. " "I should like best no Ratoneau at all, " said Anne. She flicked theletter back to him from the tips of her fingers, lightly and scornfully. "How could Adélaïde talk to him for a whole evening!" she sighed. "Adélaïde is a woman of the world, as we have decided before, " saidUrbain. "Say no more; here is the boy. It is best that he should knownothing of this--do you understand?" Anne understood, or thought she did; and a nod and smile from her went along way towards reassuring Angelot, who had been a little puzzled bythe sudden appearance of the soldier. But he was not curious; his fatherwas by no means in the habit of telling him everything, making indeed athin cloud of wilful mystery about some of his doings. It had alwaysbeen so; and Angelot had grown up with a certain amount of blind trustin the hand which had guided his mother and himself through the thornyyears of his childhood. At this moment he was distracted by a very serious attack on Négo. Thedog would have to be shot, Monsieur Urbain said, if he received peopleso savagely; and in defending Négo the rest of Angelot's breakfast-timewas spent. Later on he was a little surprised by his father's telling him to goalone to La Joubardière and arrange about the vintage. Urbain hadremembered business, he said, which called him to Lancilly. He turnedaway and left the room without a word, without seeing, or perhapschoosing to see, the sudden flame of irritation in Anne's dark eyes, thelight of another feeling in Angelot's. The young fellow lingered a moment in the dining-room window, andwatched the sturdy figure walking away in linen clothes and a straw hat, the shoulders slightly bent from study, the whole effect that of honeststrength and capacity, not at all of intrigue and ruse. Then he turnedround and met his mother's eyes. For a moment it seemed as if they mustread each other's soul. But Anne only said: "Do not delay, my boy. Go toJoubard; arrange things to please your father. We must remember; he iswiser than we are; he does the best for us all. " "Yes, my little mother, " said Angelot. "Only--Négo shall not be shot. Yes, I am going this instant. " He took her hand and kissed it. She pushed back his hair and kissed hisforehead. "And what are you going to do?" he said. "Come with me to see the oldJoubards. " "No, no. I must go to the church, " she said. "I was hurried thismorning. " As Urbain crossed the valley, going through the little hamlet, down thewhite stony lane, between high hedges, then by field paths across to thelower poplar-shaded road, then along by the slow, bright stream to thebridge and the first white houses of Lancilly, he thought with someamusement and satisfaction of that morning's diplomacy. He had not thesmallest intention of taking his dear and pretty Anne into hisconfidence. The little plot, which Adélaïde and he had hatched socleverly, must remain between them and the General. This power of suggesting was a wonderful thing, truly. A word had beenenough to set the whole machinery going. If he rightly understood that_Tout va bien_, it meant that the Prefect was ready at once to do hispart. That seemed a little strange; but after all, De Mauves would nothave reached his present position without some cleverness to help him, and no doubt he saw, as Urbain did, the excellence of this arrangementfor everybody all round. Hervé de Sainfoy was really foolish; his ownenemy: Urbain and Adélaïde were his friends; they knew how to make useof the mammon of unrighteousness. The advantages of such a connectionwith the Empire were really uncountable. Urbain was quite sure that hewas justified in plotting against Hervé for his good. Did he not lovehim like a brother? Would he not have given him the last penny in hispurse, the last crust if they were starving? And as for misleading Annea little, that too seemed right to his conscience. It was only a case ofeconomising truth, after all. In the end, the Ratoneau connection wouldbe useful in saving Joseph and his friends, no doubt, from some of theconsequences of their foolishness. It was with the serenity of success and conscious virtue, deepened andbrightened by the joy of pleasing the beautiful Adélaïde, that Urbain, finding her alone, put the General's letter into her hand. There was an almost vulture look in the fair face as she stooped overit. "Ah--and what does this mean?" "It means, " Urbain said, "that General Ratoneau has seen the Prefect, and that that excellent man is ready to oblige him--and you, madame. " "Me?" Adélaïde looked up sharply, with a sudden flush. "I hope you gaveno message from me. " "How could I? you sent none. I am to be trusted, I assure you. I simplyhinted that if the affair could be managed from outside, you would notbe too much displeased. " "Nor would you, " she said. "No--no, I should not. " He spoke rather slowly, stroking his face, looking at her thoughtfully. This pale passion of eagerness was notbecoming, somehow, to his admired Adélaïde. "Nor would you, " she repeated. "Come, Urbain, be frank. You know it isnecessary, from your point of view, that Hélène should be married soon. You know that silly boy of yours fancies himself in love with her. " "It would not be unnatural. All France might do the same. But pardon me, I do not know it. " "You mean that he has not confided in you. Well, well, do not lay holdof my words; you had eyes the night before last; you saw what I saw, what every one must have seen. You confessed as much to me yesterday, sodo not contradict yourself now. " "Very well--yes!" Urbain smiled and bowed. "Let us agree that my poorboy may have such a fancy. But what does it matter?" "Of course it does not really matter, because such a marriage would beabsolutely impossible for Hélène. But it is better for a young man notto have such wild ambitions in his head at all. You know I am right. Youagree with me. That is one reason why you are working with me now. " "It is true, madame. You are right. But did it not seem to you, theother night, that Angelot himself saw the impossibility--" "No, it did not, " she said, and her eyes flashed. "He had to protecthimself from his uncle's madness--that was nothing. By the bye, thatwonderful brother of yours has changed his mind about Henriette. Hesent her here this morning with a letter to me, and she is now doing herlessons with Sophie and Lucie. " "I am delighted to hear it, " said Urbain, absently. "But now, to returnto our subject--the Ratoneau marriage--" he paused an instant, andwhatever his words and actions may have been, Madame de Sainfoy was alittle punished for her scorn of his son by the accent of utter disgustwith which he dwelt on the General's name. For she felt it, and he had the small satisfaction of seeing that shedid. She had trodden on her worm a little too hard, in telling Ange dela Marinière's father that he might as well dream of a princess as ofHélène de Sainfoy. "Yes, yes, " she said hastily, and smiled brilliantly on Urbain as muchas to say, "Dear friend, I was joking. We understand each other. --Tellme everything you did yesterday--what he said, and all about it, " shewent on aloud. "Ah, Hervé!" as her husband sauntered into the room--"dohave the goodness to fetch me those patterns of silk hangings from thelibrary. This dear Urbain has come at the right moment to be consultedabout them. " CHAPTER XV HOW HENRIETTE READ HISTORY TO SOME PURPOSE The inside of the Château de Lancilly was a curious labyrinth of archedstone passages paved with brick, cold on the hottest day, with shortflights of steps making unexpected changes of level; every wall so thickas to hold deep cupboards, even small rooms, or private staircasesclimbing steeply up or down. The old ghosts of the château, who slippedin and out of these walls and flitted about the hidden steps, had lost agood deal of their credit in the last twenty years. No self-respectingghost could show itself to Urbain de la Marinière, and few mortalsbesides him haunted the remote passages while the great house stoodempty. And now one may be sure that the ghosts were careful to hide themselvesfrom Madame de Sainfoy. No half-lights, no chilly shadows wavering onthe wall, no quick passing of a wind from nowhere, such hints andvanishings as might send a shiver through ordinary bones, had any effecton Adélaïde's cool dignity. The light of reason shone in her clear-cutface; her voice, penetrating and decided, was enough to frighten anyfoolish spirit who chose to sweep rushingly beside her through the wallas she walked along the passages. "Do you hear the rats?" she would say. "How can we catch them? These oldhouses are infested with them. " She spoke so firmly that even the ghost itself believed it was a rat, and scuttled away out of hearing. To reach the north wing, where her three girls and their governesslived, Madame de Sainfoy had to mount a short flight of steps from thehall, then to go along a vaulted corridor lighted only by a smalllucarne window here and there, then down a staircase which brought herto the level of the great salons and the dining-room at the oppositeend, which formerly, like this north wing, had hung over the moat, butwere now being brought nearer the ground by Monsieur de Sainfoy'searthworks. This old north wing had been less restored than any other part of thechâteau. The passage which ran through it, only lighted by a window atthe foot of the staircase, ended at the arched door of a silent, deserted chapel with an altar on its east side, a quaint figure of OurLady in a carved niche, and a window half-darkened with ivy leaves, overhanging the green and damp depths of the moat, now empty of water. Before reaching the chapel--lonely and neglected, but not desecrated, for by the care of Madame de la Marinière mass had been said in it oncea year--there were four doors, two on each side of the corridor. Thefirst on the left was that of the room where Sophie and Lucie both sleptand did their lessons, a large room looking out west to the gardens andwoods behind Lancilly; and opening from this, with a separate door intothe passage, was Mademoiselle Moineau's room. On the right the roomswere smaller, the chapel cutting them off to the north, with a secretstaircase in the thickness of the wall by the altar. A maid slept in thefirst; and the second, nearest the chapel, but with a wide, cheerfulview of its own across the valley to the east, was Hélène's room. Madame de Sainfoy, after disposing of Hervé and hearing all that Urbainhad to tell her, with digressions to the almost equally interestingsubject of silk hangings, set off across the château to inspect theyoung people at their lessons. She was an excellent mother. She did not, like so many women, leave her children entirely to the consciences oftheir teachers. Her firm step, the sharp touch which lifted the heavy old latch, straightened the backs of Sophie and Lucie as if by magic. Lucie lookedat her mother in terror. Too often her round shoulders caught thatunsparing eye, and the dreaded backboard was firmly strapped on beforeMadame de Sainfoy left the room; for Lucie, growing tall and inclinedto stoop, was going through the period of torture which Hélène, for thesame reason, had endured before her. They all got up, including Mademoiselle Moineau. The two girls went tokiss their mother's hand; Henriette, more slowly, followed theirexample. "I hope your new pupil is obedient, mademoiselle, " said Madame deSainfoy, as her cold glance met the child's fearless eyes. Mademoiselle Moineau cocked her little arched nose--she was very like afluffy old bird--and smiled rather mischievously. "We shall do very well, when Mademoiselle de la Marinière understandsus, " she said. "I have no wish to complain, but at present she is alittle sure of herself, a little distrustful of me, and so--" "Ignorance and ill-breeding, " said the Comtesse, coolly. "Excuseher--she will know better in time. " Riette's eyes fell, and she became crimson. The good-natured Sophiecaught her hand and squeezed it, thinking she was going to cry; but suchweakness was far from Riette; the red of her cheeks was a flame of pureindignation. Ignorant! Ill-bred! She had been very much pleased when thelittle papa decided suddenly on sending her to join Sophie and Lucie intheir lessons; she had been seized with a romantic admiration forHélène, independent of the interest she took in her for Angelot's sake, and in other ways the Château de Lancilly was to her enchanted ground. And now this fair, tall lady, whom she had disliked from the first, talked of her ignorance and ill-breeding! She drew herself up, her lipstrembled; another such word and she would have walked out of the room, fled down the corridor, escaped alone across the fields to LesChouettes. She knew every turn, every step in the château, every path inthe country, far better than these people did; they would not easilyovertake her. But Madame de Sainfoy was not thinking of Henriette. "What are you doing? Reading history?" she said to the others. "Mademoiselle, I thought it was my wish that Hélène should read historywith her sisters. The other day, if you remember, she could not tellMonsieur de Sainfoy the date of the marriage of Philippe Duc d'Orléanswith the Princess Henriette of England. It is necessary to know thesethings. The Emperor expects a correct knowledge of the old Royal Family. Where is Hélène?" "She is in her own room, madame. Allow me an instant--" The three children were left alone. Madame de Sainfoy walked quicklyinto Mademoiselle Moineau's room, the little governess waddling afterher, and the door was shut. Riette made a skip in the air and pirouetted on one foot. Then whileSophie and Lucie stared open-mouthed, she was on a chair; then with awild spring, she was hanging by her hands to the top cornice of a greatwalnut-wood press; then she was on her feet again, light as anindia-rubber ball. "Ah, mon Dieu! sit down, Riette, or we shall all be beaten!" sighed thetrembling Lucie. "Don't be frightened, children!" murmured Riette. "Where is our book?Now, my angels, think, think of Henri Quatre and all his glory!" In the meanwhile, Mademoiselle Moineau laid her complaint of Hélènebefore the Comtesse. Something was certainly the matter with the girl;she would not read, she would not talk, her tasks of needlework wereneglected, she did not care to go out, or to do anything but sit in herwindow and gaze across the valley. "Of course there has been no opportunity--they have never met, except inpublic--but if it were not entirely out of the question--" MademoiselleMoineau stammered, blushing, conscious, though she would never confessit, of having nodded one day for a few minutes under a certain mulberrytree. "The other night, madame, at the dinner party, did it strike youthat a certain gentleman was a little forward, a little intimate--" Madame de Sainfoy lifted her brows and shrugged her shoulders. "You mean young La Marinière? Bah! nonsense, mademoiselle. Only alittle cousin, and a quite impossible one. We cannot keep him quite atarm's length, because of his father, who has been so excellent. But ifyou really think that Hélène has any such absurdity in her head--" "Oh, madame, I do not say so. I have no positive reason for saying so. She has told me nothing--" "I should think not, " said Madame de Sainfoy, shortly. Mademoiselle Moineau was dismissed back to her pupils, whom she found, under Henriette's surveillance, deep in the romance of French history. Madame de Sainfoy crossed the passage and tried Hélène's door. It wasnot fastened, as she had half expected. Opening it quickly and gently, she found her daughter sitting in the window, as the governess haddescribed her, with both arms stretched out upon its broad sill, andeyes fixed in a long wistful gaze on the small spire of the church at LaMarinière, and the screen of trees which partly hid the old manorbuildings from view. "What are you doing, Hélène?" said Madame de Sainfoy. Her voice, though low, was peremptory. The girl started up, turning herwhite face and tired eyes from the window. Her mother walked across theroom and sat down in a high-backed chair close by. "What a waste of time, " she said, "to sit staring into vacancy! Why areyou not reading history with your sisters, as I wished?" "Mamma--my head aches, " said Hélène. "Then bathe it with cold water. What is the matter with you, child? Youirritate me with your pale looks. Do you dislike Lancilly? Do you wishyourself back in Paris?" "No, mamma. " "I could excuse you if you did, " said Madame de Sainfoy, with a smile. "I find the country insupportable myself, but you see, as the fates havepreserved to us this rat-infested ruin, we must make the best of it. Iset you an example, Hélène. I interest myself in restoring anddecorating. If you were to help me, time would not seem so long. " She did not speak at all unkindly. "I like the country. I like Lancilly much better than Paris, " saidHélène. There was a moment's gleam of pity in Madame de Sainfoy's bright blueeyes. Languid, sad, yet not rebellious or sulky, her beautiful girlstood drooping like a white lily in the stern old frame of the window. The mother believed in discipline, and Hélène's childhood and youth hadbeen spent in an atmosphere of cold severity. Punishments would havebeen very frequent, if her father's rather spasmodic and inconsequentkindness had not stepped in to save her. She owed a good deal to herfather, but these debts only hardened her mother against both of them. Yet Madame de Sainfoy was not without a certain pride in the perfectform and features, the delicate, exquisite grace and distinction, whichwas one of these days to dazzle the Tuileries. On that, her resolutionwas firm and unchanging. _Tout va bien!_ One of these days the Emperor'scommand might be expected. With that confident certainty in thebackground, she felt she need not trouble herself much about herhusband's objections or her daughter's fancies. "You are a very difficult young woman, Hélène, " she said, still notunkindly, and her eyes travelled with slow consideration over everydetail as the girl stood there. "I do not like that gown of yours, " shesaid. "Don't wear it again. Give it to Jeanne--do you hear?" "Must I? But it is not worn out, mamma. I would rather keep it, " thegirl said quickly, stroking her soft blue folds, which were in truth alittle faded. Then she flushed suddenly, for what reason could she give for loving theold gown! Not, certainly, that she had worn it one day in thegarden--one day when Mademoiselle Moineau went to sleep! "You will do as I tell you, " said Madame de Sainfoy. Then she added witha slight laugh--"You are so fond of your own way, that I wonder youshould object to being married. Do you think, perhaps, you would find ahusband still more tyrannical?" The girl shook her head. "No, " she murmured. "Then what is your reason? for you evidently intend not to be married atall. " "I do not say that, " said Hélène; and Madame de Sainfoy was conscious, with sudden anger, that once more the dreamy grey eyes travelled out ofthe open window, far away to those lines of poplars and clipped elmsopposite. "How different things were when I was young!" she said. "My marriagewith your father was arranged by our relations, without our meeting atall. I never saw him till everything was concluded. If I had dislikedhim, I could neither have said nor done anything. " "That was before the Revolution, " said Hélène, with a faint smile. "Indeed you are very much mistaken, " her mother said quickly, "if youthink the Revolution has altered the manners of society. It may havedone good in some ways--I believe it did--but in teaching young peoplethat they could disobey their parents, it did nothing but harm. And itdeceived them, too. As long as our nation lasts, marriages will bearranged by those who know best. In your case, but for your father'sabsurd indulgence, you would have been married months ago. However, these delays cannot last for ever. I think you will not refuse the nextmarriage that is offered you. " The girl looked wonderingly at her mother, half in terror, half inhope. She spoke meaningly, positively. What marriage could this be? "What would you say to a distinguished soldier?" said Madame de Sainfoy, watching her keenly. "Then, with some post about the Court and yourhusband always away at the wars, you could lead a life as independent asyou chose. Now, pray do not think it necessary to throw yourself out ofthe window. I make a suggestion, that is all. I am quite aware thatcommands are thrown away on a young lady of your character. " "What do you mean, mamma?" the girl panted, with a quick drawing-in ofher breath. "Who is it? Not that man who dined here--that man who wastalking to you?" Madame de Sainfoy flamed suddenly into one of those cold rages which hadan effectiveness all their own. "Idiot!" she said between her teeth. "Contemptible little fool! And ifGeneral Ratoneau, a handsome and distinguished man, did you the honourof asking for your hand, would you expect me to tell him that you hadnot taken a fancy to him?" "Mon Dieu!" Hélène murmured. She turned away to the window for a moment, clasping her hands upon her breast; then, white as death, came back andstood before her mother. "It is what I feared, " she said. "It is what you were talking about; Iknew it at the time. That was why you sent me out of the room--youwanted to talk it over. Have you settled it, then? What did papa say?" Madame de Sainfoy hesitated. She had not at all intended to mention anyname, or to make Hélène aware to any extent of the true facts of thecase. Her sudden anger had carried her further than she meant to go. Sheneither wished to frighten the girl into flying to her father, nor totell her that he had refused his consent. "Really, Hélène, you are my despair, " she said, and laughed, her eyesfixed on the girl's lovely, changing face. "You leap to conclusions inan utterly absurd way. If such a thing were already settled, or evenunder serious consideration, would you not have been formally told of itbefore now? Would your father have kept silence for two days, and wouldyou not have heard of another visit from General Ratoneau? You would notbe surprised, I suppose, to hear that he admires you--and by the bye, Ithink your taste is bad if you do not return his admiration--but that isabsolutely all I have to tell you. " "Is it?" the girl sighed. "Ah, mamma, how you terrified me!" Madame de Sainfoy shrugged her shoulders. "I wonder, " she said, "how I have deserved such a daughter as you! Nocourage, no ambition for your family, no feeling of duty to them. Nothing but--I am ashamed to say it, Hélène, and you can deny it if itis not true--some silly sentimental fancy which carries your eyes andthoughts to that old farm over there. Ah, I see I am right. When didthis preposterous nonsense begin? Why, the question is not worth asking, for you have hardly even spoken to that cousin of yours, and I will dohim the justice to say that he, on his side, has no such ridiculousidea. He does not sit staring at Lancilly as you do at La Marinière!Yes, Hélène, I am ashamed of you. " Hélène stood crimson and like a culprit before her mother. She hardlyunderstood her words; she only knew that her mother had read her heart, had known how to follow her thoughts as they escaped from this stonyprison away to sunshine and free air and waving trees and a happy, homely life; away to Angelot. What was there to be ashamed of, afterall? She expected no one to be on her side; she dreaded their anger andrealised keenly what it might be; but as for shame! Even as Madame de Sainfoy spoke, the thought of her young lover seemedto surround Hélène with an atmosphere of joyful sweetness. Yes, he waswonderful, her Angelot. Would he ever be afraid or ashamed to confesshis love for her? Why could she not find courage then to tell of hersfor him? With a new and astonishing courage Hélène lifted her long lashes andlooked up into her mother's face. It was a timid glance at the best; thefurtive shadow lingered still in her eyes, result of a life of coldrepression. "Why should I deny it, mamma?" she said. Her voice was distinct, thoughit trembled. "It is true, and I am not ashamed of it. Angelot has beenkinder to me than any one in the world. Yes--I love him. " "Ah!" Madame de Sainfoy drew a long breath. "Ah! Voyons! And what next, pray?" "If you care at all to make me happy, " the girl said, and she gained alittle hope, heaven knows why, as she went on, "you and papa will--willgive me to him. Yes, that is what I want. Mamma, see, I have noambition. I don't care to live in Paris or to go to Court--I hate it! Iwant to live in the country--over there--at La Marinière. " A smile curled Madame de Sainfoy's pretty mouth. It was not an agreeableone; but it frightened Hélène much less than an angry word would havedone. She came forward a step or two, knelt on her mother's footstool, timidly rested a hand on her knee. Madame de Sainfoy sat immovable, looking down and smiling. "Speak, mamma, " murmured the girl. "Hélène, are you deaf?" said Madame de Sainfoy. "Did you hear what Isaid just now?" "You told me I had no courage or ambition. I suppose it is true. " "I told you something else, which you did not choose to hear. I told youthat this fancy of yours was not only foolish and low, but one-sided. Trust me, Hélène. I know more of your precious cousin than you do, mydear. " "Pardon! Ah no, mamma, impossible. " "It is true. The other night, as you guessed, I sent you away that Imight discuss your future with your father and his family. That veryabsurd person, Cousin Joseph de la Marinière, chose to give his opinionwithout being asked for it, and took upon himself to suggest a marriagebetween you and that little nephew of his. Take your hand away. Idislike being touched, as you know. " The girl's pale face was full of life and colour now, her melancholyeyes of light. She snatched away her hand and rose quickly to her feet, stepping back to her old place near the window. "Dear Uncle Joseph!" she murmured under her breath. "The young man was not grateful. He said in plain words that he did notwish to marry you. Yes, look as bewildered as you please. Ask yourfather, ask either of his cousins. I will say for young Ange that he hasmore wits than you have; he does not waste his time craving for theimpossible. If it were not so, I should send you away to a convent. Asit is, I shall stop this little flirtation by taking care that you donot meet him, except under supervision. " The girl looked stricken. She leaned against the wall, once more whiteas a statue, once more terrified. "Angelot said--but it is not possible!" she whispered very low. "Angelot very sensibly said that he did not care for you. Under thosecircumstances I think you are punished enough; and I will not insist onknowing how you came to deceive yourself so far. But I advise you not tospend any more time staring at that line of poplars, " said Madame deSainfoy. "Learn not to take in earnest what other people mean in play;your country cousin admires you, no doubt, but he knows more of theworld than you do, most idiotic and ill-behaved girl!" As she said the last words she rose and crossed the room to the door, throwing them scornfully over her shoulder. Then she passed out, andHélène, planted there, heard the key grind in the lock. She was a prisoner in her room; but this did not greatly trouble her. She went back to the window, leaned her arms on the sill, gazed oncemore at La Marinière, its trees motionless in the afternoon sunlight, thought of the old room as she had first seen it that moonlit eveningwith its sweet air of peace and home, thought of the noble, delicateface of Angelot's mother, thought of Angelot himself as the candle-lightfell upon him, of the first wonderful look, the electric current whichchanged the world for herself and him. And then all that had happenedsince, all that her mother did not and never must know. Was it reallypossible, could it be believed that he meant nothing, that he did notlove her after all? No, it could not be believed. And yet how to besure, without seeing him again? Ah, well, for some people life must be all sadness, and Héléne had longbelieved herself one of these. Angelot's love seemed to have proved herwrong, but now the leaf in her book was turned back again, and she foundherself at the old place. Not quite that either, for the old deadnesshad been waked into an agony of pain. Angelot false! Hell must certainlybe worse to bear after a taste of Paradise. She laid her fair head down on her arms at the open window, high in thebare wall. An hour passed by, and still she sat there in a kind ofhopeless lethargy. She did not hear a gentle tapping at the door, northe trying of the latch by some one who could not get in. But a minutelater she started and exclaimed when a dark head was suddenly nestledagainst hers, her cheek kissed by rosy lips, her name whisperedlovingly. "Oh, little Riette!" she cried. "Where did you come from, child? Was thekey in the door?" "No, there was no key, " Riette whispered. "You are locked in, ma belle;but never mind. I know my way about Lancilly. I am going home now, and Iwanted to see you. They will ask me how you are looking. " Hélène blushed and almost laughed. She looked eagerly into the child'sface. "Who will ask you?" "Papa, of course. " "Ah, yes, he is very kind. What will you say to him?" Riette looked hard at her and shrugged her slight shoulders. "I must go, " she said. "Kiss me again, ma belle. " "Stop!" Hélène held her tight, with her hands on her shoulders. "Do youoften see--your cousin--Angelot?" Riette's face rippled with laughter. "Every day--nearly every hour. " "Why do you laugh?" "How can I tell? It is my fault, my own wickedness, " said Riette, penitently. "Why indeed should I laugh, when you look sad and ill? Can Isay any little word to Angelot, ma cousine?" "Tell him I must see him--I must speak to him. Tell him to fix the placeand the hour. " "And you a prisoner?" "Yes--but how did you get in? That way I can get out--Riette--Riette!" "Precisely. Adieu! they are calling me. " The child was gone. Hélène, standing in the deep recess in the window, now came forward and looked round wonderingly. The old tapestried wallssurrounded her; ancient scenes of hunting and dancing which at firsthad troubled her sleep. There was no visible exit from the room, exceptthe locked door. But Riette was gone, and the message with her. Was shea real child, or only a comforting dream? CHAPTER XVI HOW ANGELOT PLAYED THE PART OF AN OWL IN AN IVY-BUSH That night, while Hélène sat alone and in disgrace, her lover wasdancing. After dinner Riette persuaded her father to walk across with her to LaMarinière, where they found Monsieur Urbain, his wife and son, spendingthe evening in their usual sober fashion; he, deep in vintage matters, still studying his friend De Serres, and arguing various points withAngelot whose day had been passed with Joubard in the vineyards; she, working at her frame, where a very rococo shepherd and shepherdess undera tree had almost reached perfection. Madame de la Marinière had views of her own about little girls, andconsidered Riette by no means a model. She had tried to impress herideas on Monsieur Joseph, but though he smiled and listened admiringly, he spoiled Riette all the more. So her Aunt Anne reluctantly gave herup. But still, in her rather severe way, she was kind to the child, andRiette, though a little shy and on her good behaviour, was not afraid ofher. There was always a basket beside Aunt Anne, of clothes she wasmaking for the poor, for her tapestry was only an evening amusement. Inthis basket there was a little white cap such as the peasant childrenwore, partly embroidered in white thread. This was Riette's specialwork, whenever she came to La Marinière. Sitting on a footstool besideher aunt, she stitched away at "le bonnet de la petite Lise. " At herrate of progress, however, as her aunt pointed out with a melancholysmile, Lise would be a grown-up woman before the cap was finished. And on this special evening the stitches were both few and crooked. Riette paid no attention to her work, but sat staring and smiling atAngelot across the room, and he, instead of talking to his father anduncle, watched her keenly under his eyelids. Presently he came and stoodnear his mother's chair while she asked Riette a few questions about herlessons that day. It appeared that all had been satisfactory. "A good little woman, Mademoiselle Moineau, " said Riette, softly, smiling at Angelot, who felt the colour mounting to his hair. "I likeher very much. She pretends to scold, but there is no malice in it, youknow. I don't think she is very clever. Quite clever enough for Sophieand Lucie, who are most amiable, poor dear children, but stupid--ah!" "They are older than you, I believe, Henriette, " said her aunt, reprovingly. "Yes, dear aunt, in years, but not in experience. I have lived, I knowlife"--she nodded gently--"while those poor girls--Ah, how charming! MayI have a little dance with Ange, Aunt Anne?" "I suppose so. Lise will not have her cap yet, it seems, " said Madame dela Marinière, smiling in spite of herself. Monsieur Joseph had sat down to the piano and was playing a livelypolka. Angelot started up, seized his little cousin, and whirled her offdown the room. In a minute or two Urbain took off his spectacles, shutthe _Théâtre d'Agriculture_ with a sharp clap, walked up to Anne andheld out his hands with a smiling bow. "I can't resist Joseph's music, if you can, my little lady!" "It seems we must follow the children, " she said. "Riette has just beenpointing out that she, at least, is wiser than her elders. " Angelot and his father jumped their light partners up and down with allthe merry energy of France and a new world. After a few turns, Angelotwaltzed Riette out into the hall, and they stood still for a few momentsunder the porch, while she whispered Hélène's message into his ear. "Mon Dieu! But how can she meet me? It must be at night, or they willsee us. And if she is locked into her room?" "She can get out of her room, mon petit! She knows there is a way, though I have not shown it to her. Then there is the secret staircasein the chapel wall. " "You are right, glorious child that you are. She will find me in themoat, close to the little door. Nothing can be safer, provided that noone misses her. " "At what time?" "Nine o'clock, when they are all playing cards. " "I will tell her, " said Riette. "Oh, my Ange! she looked so sweet whenshe talked of you. I think I love her as much as you do. Why don't youbring her to Les Chouettes, that we may take care of her? There is anidea. Take her to Monsieur le Curé to-morrow night. He will be gone tobed, but no matter. Make him get up and marry you. Then come and live atLes Chouettes, both of you. We have plenty of room, and little papawould not be angry. " "Hush, child, what things you say!" The very thoughts were maddening, there in the dim darkness under thestairs, with glimmering points of distant earthly light from Lancilly onthe opposite hill. One of them might be Hélène's window, where she satand watched La Marinière. The music in the old room behind went swinging on. Monsieur Josephplayed with immense spirit; Monsieur and Madame Urbain danced merrily upand down. "Allons! we must go back, " Angelot whispered to his little cousin, whose arms were round his neck. "And then you must dance with youruncle, because my mother likes a turn with me. " One cold touch of reflection came to dim his happiness. He had promisedUncle Joseph not to make Henriette a go-between. And it seemed no realexcuse that it was Hélène's doing, not his. Well, this once it could notbe helped. All the promises in the world would not make him disobeyHélène or disappoint her. For the present, it seemed as if the attraction between himself andHélène, a rapture to both of them, still meant very real misery to her. She was in deep disgrace with Madame de Sainfoy. Although she wasallowed to come down to the meals, at which she sat statue-like andsilent, she was sent back at once to her room, and either her mother orMademoiselle Moineau locked her in. Her father noticed these proceedings and shrugged his shoulders. He wassorry for Hélène, but had learnt by experience not to interfere, excepton great and necessary occasions. No doubt girls were sometimestroublesome, and he did not pretend to know how to manage them. Adélaïdemust bring up her children in her own way. Another day of almost entire solitude, with a terrible doubt of Angelotadded to the longing for his presence, so that peace was no longer to befound in the distant sight of La Marinière; another day had dragged itslength through the hot hours of the afternoon, when, as Hélène walkedrestlessly up and down in her room, the blue-green depths of a grove onher tapestried wall began to move, and out from the wall itself, as ifto join the dancing peasants beyond the grove, came the slender littlefigure of Henriette. In an instant the panel of tapestry had closedbehind her and she had sprung into Hélène's arms. The girl clutched herconvulsively. "What does he say?" "To-night, at nine o'clock, he will be near the little door in the moat. Meet him there. " "The little door in the moat!" "You see this. Let me show you the spring"--she dragged her to the wall, and opened the panel with a touch. Inside it there was a dark and narrowpassage, but opposite another panel stood slightly ajar. "That is the way into the chapel, " Riette whispered. "I came that way. But you must turn to the right, and almost directly you will find thestairs. The door is at the foot of them. He will be there. " "It is unlocked?" "There is no key. I believe there has been none for centuries. Adieu, mypretty angel. They will miss me; I must go. I told them I wanted to saya little prayer to Our Lady in the chapel. She often helped me when Iused to play here. " "I hope she will help me, too!" murmured Hélène. In another moment she was terrified at finding herself alone in thedark; for the child was gone, softly closing the secret door into thechapel. Hélène felt about for a minute or two before she could find thespring behind the tapestry, and stepped back into her room, shiveringfrom the damp chill of the passage. It seemed like an extraordinary fate that that night her mother kept herdownstairs at needlework later than usual. It was in truth a slight markof returning favour. Madame de Sainfoy was in a better temper, andrealised that it might be unwise to treat a tall girl of nineteen quitelike a disobedient child. So Hélène sat there stitching besideMademoiselle Moineau, who was sometimes called upon to take a hand atcards. To-night this did not seem likely, for Urbain de la Marinièrecame in after dinner, and the snuffy, sharp-faced little Curé ofLancilly was there too. Madame de Sainfoy had asked him to dine thatday, partly to show herself superior to family prejudices; for thislittle man, unlike the venerable Curé of La Marinière, was one of theConstitutional priests of the Republic. Flushing crimson, and feeling, as she well might, like a heroine ofromance, Hélène heard the new Paris clock strike nine. Its measured, silvery tones had not died away, when she was by her mother's side atthe card-table, timidly asking leave to go to her room. Madame de Sainfoy had just glanced at her hand and found it an excellentone. "Yes, my child, certainly, " she said absently, and gave Hélène her freehand. The girl touched it with her lips, and then her mother's fingers lightlypatted her cheek. "How feverish you are!" Adélaïde murmured, but took no further notice, absorbed in her game. "Like a little flame! but it is a hot night, " said Hervé as his daughterkissed him. Mademoiselle Moineau was following Hélène from the room, when she wascalled back. "No, mademoiselle, you must stay; we cannot do without you. Monsieur leCuré has to be home before ten o'clock. " The governess went back obediently to her corner. Hélène glanced backfrom the door at the group round the table, deep in their calculations, careless of what might be going on outside their circle of shadedcandle-light. Only her father lifted his head and looked after her foran instant; her presence or absence was totally indifferent to the othermen, though the square-headed cousin Urbain was Angelot's father; andher mother had forgotten her already. Carrying her light, Hélène went with quick and trembling steps throughthe house to the north wing. As she entered the last passage, she metthe maid who had been waiting on Sophie and Lucie, and who slept in theroom next her own. "Mademoiselle wants me?" said Jeanne, a little disappointed; she hadhoped for half-an-hour's freedom. "No, no, I do not want you, " Hélène answered quickly. "I have things todo--you can stay till Mademoiselle Moineau comes up. " Jeanne went on her way rejoicing. Hélène, once in her own room, locked the door inside, took a large blacklace scarf and threw it over her head, hiding her white dress with it asmuch as possible; then, still carrying her candle, touched themysterious tapestry door, that door which seemed to lead into old-timewoods, into happy, romantic worlds far away, and stepped through intothe passage in the thickness of the wall. Almost instantly she came to the topmost step of the staircase. Blackwith dust and cobwebs, damp, with slimy snail-tracks on the stones, itwent winding down to the lowest story of the old house. The steps wereworn and irregular. Long ago they had been built, for this was the mostancient part of the château. In their first days the stairs had notended with the moat, then full of water, but had gone lower still, leading to a passage under the moat that communicated with the opencountry. There were many such underground ways in the war-worn oldprovince. But when Lancilly was restored and the moat drained, in theseventeenth century, the lower stairs and passage were blocked up, andthe present door was made, opening on the green grass and bushes thatgrew at the bottom of the old moat. Hélène went down the steep and narrow stairs as quickly as her tremblinglimbs would carry her. They seemed endless; but at last the light fellon a low, heavy door, deep set in the immense foundation wall. Sheseized the large rusty latch and lifted it without difficulty. Then shepulled gently; no result; she pushed hard, thinking the door must openoutwards; it did not move. She set down her light on the stairs, andtried again with both hands; but the door was immovable. As her brainbecame a little steadier, and her eyes more accustomed to the dimness, she saw that a heavy iron bar was fastened across the upper panels ofthe door, and run into two enormous staples on the wall at each side. She touched the bar, tried to move it, but found her hands absolutelyuseless; it would have been a heavy task for a strong man. She stood andlooked at the door, shivering with terror and distress. After all, itseemed, she was a real prisoner. She could not keep her appointment withAngelot. She gave a stifled cry and threw herself against the door, beating it with her fists and bruising them. Then a voice spoke outside, low and quickly. "Hélène!" "Ah! you are there!" she said, and leaned her head against the door. "Open then, dearest--don't be afraid. Lift the latch, and pull ittowards you. There is only a keyhole on this side--but it can't belocked, for there is no key. " "I cannot, " she said. "It is barred with a great iron bar. I cannot moveit. Oh, how unhappy I am! Why should I be so unfortunate, so miserable?"she cried, and beat upon the door again. "Ah, mon Dieu! My father's precautions! He went round the château sixweeks ago, to examine all the doors. I was not with him, or I shouldhave known it. Hélène! Will you do as I ask you?" "Ah! there is nothing to be done. I had to speak to you--I cannot, withthis dreadful door between us, and--Ah, heavens, something has put outmy candle. I am in the dark! What shall I do!" "Courage, courage!" he said, speaking close to the keyhole. "Go back upthe stairs; go to the chapel window!" "But I cannot speak to you from the window!" "Yes, you can--you shall. " "But I am in the dark!" "You cannot miss your way. Go--go quickly--we have not much time--it islate already. " "I could not help it, " sighed Hélène. She was almost angry with him, and for a moment she was sorry she hadsent him any message. "What is the use? How can I speak to him from the window? it is toohigh, " she said to herself as she stumbled up the stairs, shuddering asher fingers touched the damp wall. "It is my fate--I am never to behappy. My mother knows she can do as she likes with me. " A sob rose in her throat, and burning tears blinded her. But she dashedthem away when she reached the level, and saw the thin line of lightwhich showed the entrance into her own room, where she had left a candleburning. The opposite panel flew open as she touched it; she stooped andcrept into the chapel. It was dark, cold, and lonely; no friendly red light in the seldom-usedlittle sanctuary; but the window in the north wall was unshuttered, andlet in the pale glimmer of a sky lit by stars. Hélène had no difficultyin opening the window, though its rusty hinges groaned. There was aquick, loud rustling in the ivy beneath. Hélène stepped back with aslight scream as a hand shot suddenly up and caught the sill; in anotherinstant Angelot had climbed to the level of the window and dropped onthe brick floor. Hélène was almost in his arms, but she drew back andmotioned him away, remembering just in time that she was angry. "What is it?" he said quickly. "Why--" "How--how did you get here?" she stammered. "I thought you were down inthe moat. " "It is not the first time I have climbed the ivy, as the owls mighttell you, " he said. "It is easy; the old trunk is as thick as my body, and twists like a ladder. Hélène! You are angry with me! What have Idone?" He tried to take her hand, but she drew it from him. He fell on hisknees and kissed the hem of her gown. "Hélène!" She stood motionless, unable to speak. But Angelot was not long to betreated in this chilling fashion. It seemed that he had a goodconscience, and was not afraid to account for any of his actions. Herose to his feet; no words passed between them; but Hélène resisted himno longer. Her head was leaning on his breast; a long, happy sighescaped her; and it was between kisses that he asked her again, "Why areyou angry with me?" "I am not--not now--I know it is not true, " she murmured. "What, my beloved?" "You do care for me?" Angelot laughed. Indeed it did not seem necessary to reassure her onsuch a point. "Because, if you give me up, I shall die, " she said. "I should havedied, I think, if I had not seen you to-night. Now they may say and dowhat they please. " "What have they been saying and doing? Ah, my sweet, how have they beentormenting you? You are no happier than when I saw you first, though Ilove you so. How you tremble! Sit down here--there, softly--you arequite safe. What in God's name are we to do? Must I leave you again withthese people?" For a few minutes they sat in a corner of an old carved bench under thewindow, one of the family seats in those more religious days whengrandfathers and grandmothers came to the chapel to pray. Hélène leanedagainst Angelot, clinging to him, and past his dark profile, dimlyvisible in the twilight of stars, she could see the roughly carved andpainted figure of Our Lady, brought from a Spanish convent and muchvenerated by that Mademoiselle de Sainfoy who became a Carmelite in theearly days of the order. Hélène had fancied, before now, that there wassomething motherly in the smile of the statue, neglected so long. Shethought, even as her lover kissed her, that neither the Blessed Virgin, nor St. Theresa, nor the ancestor who was her disciple, would have beenangry with her and Angelot. Only her own mother, and she for worldlyreasons alone, would find any sin in this sweet human love which wrappedher round, which, if allowed to have its way, would shield her from allthe miseries of life and keep her in the rapturous peace she enjoyed inthis moment, this fleeting moment, which she could not spoil even bytelling her Angelot why she sent for him. "Ah, how I wanted you!" she breathed in his ear. "My love! But what--what are we to do!" he murmured passionately; herfeelings of rest and peace and safety were not for him. "Your father is very good, and loves you, " he said. "At least we knowthat he will not have you sacrificed. I will ask him. If herefuses--then, mille tonnerres, I will carry you off into the woods, Hélène. " "It is no use asking him, dearest, none, " she said. "Besides, you toldthem all that you did not care for me. " She lifted her head, and tried to look into his face. "Ah, did they tell you that? Was that why you were angry?" Angelotcried. "Yes, " she said; "and now you had better ask to be forgiven. " Indeed, as they both knew too well, there were more serious things thankisses and loving words to occupy that stolen half-hour. They had totell each other all--all they knew--and each became a little wiser. Hélène knew that General Ratoneau had actually asked for her, and thather father had refused to listen; thus realising that her mother wasdeceiving her, and also that for some hidden reason the plan seemed toMadame de Sainfoy still possible. Angelot, even as they sat theretogether, realised vividly that he was living in a fool's paradise; thathis love's confession to her mother had made things incalculably worse, justifying all the stern treatment, the violent means, which such amother might think necessary. "She means to marry her to Ratoneau, " he thought, "and she will do it, unless Heaven interferes by a miracle. Uncle Joseph is my only friend, and he cannot help me--at least--if I do not act at once, we are lost. " He lifted Hélène's fair head a little, and its pale beauty, in the dimgleam from the open window, seemed to fill his whole being as he gazed. He drew her towards him and kissed her again and again; it might havebeen a last embrace, a last good-bye, but he did not mean it for that. "Will you come with me now?" he said. "Yes!" Hélène said faintly. "Are you afraid?" "No"--she hesitated--"not with you. I can be brave when I am withyou--but when you are not here--" "They shall not part us again, " Angelot said. "But how are we to get out?" Though her lover was there, still holding her, the girl trembled as sheasked the question. "I can unbar the door, " he said. "Come to the top of the stairs and waitthere till I whistle; then come down to me. " This seemed enough for the moment, and the wild fellow had no furtherplan at all. To have her outside these prison walls, in the free air heloved, under the trees in the starlight, to make a right to her, as hevaguely thought, by running off with her in this fashion--that was allthat concerned him at the moment. Where was he to take her? Would UncleJoseph receive them? Such thoughts just flashed through the tumult ofhis brain, but seemed of no present importance. Angelot was mad thatnight, mad with love of his cousin, with the desperate necessity whichneeded to be met by desperate daring. Hélène followed him, trembling very much, to the top of the stairs. "You have a candle there? Fetch it for me, " he said. She obeyed him, slipping through the tapestry into her own room. Oncethere, she looked round with a wild wonder. Could this beherself--Hélène de Sainfoy--about to escape into the wide world with herlover--and empty-handed? She looked down vaguely at her white eveninggown and thin shoes, snatched up her watch and chain and a diamond ring, which were lying on the table, and slipped them into her pocket. It wasthe work of a moment, yet when she carried the candle to Angelot, he waswhite as death, and stamping with impatience; the flame in his eyesfrightened her. He took the candle without a word and disappeared down the first steepwinding of the stairs. His moving shadow danced gigantic on the wall, then was gone. Hélène waited in the darkness. Even love and faith, withhope added, were not strong enough to keep her brave and happy duringthe terrible minutes of lonely waiting there. Her limbs trembled, herheart thumped so that she had to lean for support against the cold dampwall. She bent her head forward, eagerly listening. Why had she not gonedown with him? Somebody might hear him whistle. However, no whistlecame; only a dull sound of banging, which echoed strangely, alarmingly, up the narrow staircase in the thickness of the wall. It seemed to Hélène that she had waited long and was becoming stupefiedwith anxiety, when a light flashed suddenly upon her eyes, and sheopened them wide; she had never lost the childish fear which made hershut them in the dark. Angelot had leaped up the stairs again and wasstanding beside her, white and frowning. "It is impossible, " he said, in a hurried whisper. "I cannot move thebar without tools. Come back into the chapel. " He set down the candlestick on the altar step, walked distractedly tothe end of the low vaulted room, then back to where she stood gazing athim with a pitiful terror in her eyes. "What is to be done! Is there no other way!" he said, half to himself. "Mon Dieu, Hélène, how beautiful you are! Ah, what is that? Listen!" His ears, quicker than hers, had caught steps and a rustling sound inthe passage that ended at the chapel door. "Dear--go back to your room, " he said. "They must not find you here. Weshall meet again--Good-night, my own!" He was gone. The bewildered girl looked after him silently, and he wasacross the floor, on the window-sill, disappearing hand over head downhis ladder of old twisted ivy stems, before she realised anything. Then, not the least aware that some one was knocking at her bedroom door inthe passage, shaking the latch, calling her name, she flew after him tothe window and leaned out, crying to him low and wildly, "Angelot, comeback, come back! Why did you go? Ah, don't leave me! Help me to climbdown, too, --please, please, darling!" Angelot was out of sight, though not out of hearing. Forty feet of thickivy and knotted stems, shelter of generations of owls, stretched betweenthe chapel window and the moat's green floor; ivy two centuries old, thehappy hunting-ground of many a lad of Lancilly and La Marinière. Butthat night, perhaps, the hospitable old tree reached the most romanticpoint of its history. Hélène stretched down eager hands among the thick leaves. "Angelot! Angelot!" She heard nothing but the rustling down below, saw nothing but the thickleaves under the stars, though somebody had opened the chapel door, andthough her treacherous candle, throwing a square of light upon the darktrees opposite, showed not only her own imploring shadow, but that of atall figure stepping up behind her. In another moment her arm was seizedin a grasp by no means gentle, and she turned round with a scream toface Madame de Sainfoy. Her cry might have stopped Angelot in his swift descent and brought himto the window again, but as he neared the ground he saw that some onewas waiting for him, some one standing on the flat grass, under thelight of such stars as shone down into the moat, gazing with fixedgravity at the window from which Hélène was leaning. Angelot's light spring to the ground brought him within a couple ofyards of the motionless figure, and his white face flushed red when hesaw that it was Hélène's father. The few moments during which he facedComte Hervé silently were the worst his happy young life had ever known. The elder man did not speak till Hélène, with that last little cry, haddisappeared from the window. Then he looked at Angelot. "I am sorry, Ange, " he said, "for I owe a good deal to your father. ButI will ask you to wait here while I fetch my pistols. It is best tosettle such a matter on the spot--though you hardly deserve to be sowell treated. " "Monsieur--" Angelot almost choked. "Ah! Do not trouble yourself to hunt for excuses--there are none, " saidthe Comte. He was moving off, but Angelot threw himself in his way. "Bring one pistol, " he said. "One will be enough, for I cannot fightyou--you know it. But you may kill me if it pleases you. " Hervé shrugged his shoulders. "How long has this been going on? How many times have you met mydaughter clandestinely? Does it seem to you the behaviour of agentleman? On my soul, you deserve to be shot down like a dog, as yousay!" "No, monsieur, " Angelot said quickly, "I give you leave to do it, for Isee now that life must be misery. But I have done no such harm as todeserve to be shot! No! I love and adore my cousin, and you must haveknown it--every one knows it, I should think. Can I sit quietly at homewhile her family gives her the choice between General Ratoneau and aconvent? No, I confess it is more than I can bear. " "And if her family had given her such a choice--which is false, by thebye--what could you do? Is it likely that they would change their mindsand give her to you, as your uncle Joseph suggested? And would youexpect to gain their favour by this sort of thing?" He pointed to thewindow. "No, young man; if you were not your father's son, my groomsmight whip you out of Lancilly, and I should feel justified in givingthe order. " Angelot broke into a short laugh. "A pistol-shot is not an insult, " hesaid. "But you are angry. " "And you are Urbain's son, " the Comte said. There was a world of reproach in the words, but little violent anger. The two men stood and looked at each other; and it was not the leaststrange part of the position that they were still, as they had been allalong, mutually attracted. Both natures were open, sweet-tempered, andgenerous. A certain grace and charm about Hervé de Sainfoy drew Angelot, as it had drawn his father. The touch of romance in Angelot, his beauty, his bold, defiant air, took Hervé's fancy. "You climb like a monkey or a sailor, " he said. "But you tried anotherexit, did you not? Was it you who was hammering at the door down there?" "Yes, monsieur. " "Tell me all. " The questions were severe, but Angelot answered them frankly and truly, as far as he could do so and take the whole blame upon himself. "It was I, " he said; "I did the whole wrong, if it was wrong. Do not letmadame her mother be angry with her. But for God's sake do not make hermarry Ratoneau. She is timid, she is delicate--ah, monsieur--and we arecousins, after all--" There was a break in his voice, and the Comte almost smiled. "You are a pair of very absurd and troublesome children, " he said, muchmore kindly. "But you are old enough to know better; it is ignorance ofthe world to think that lives can be arranged to suit privateinclinations. I could not give you my daughter, even if I wished it; youought to see, as your father would, that you are not in a position toexpect such a wife. You are not even on my side in politics, though youvery well might be. If you were in the army, with even the prospect ofdistinguishing yourself like General Ratoneau--and why not even now--" It was a tremendous temptation, but only for a moment. Angelot thoughtof his mother and of his uncle Joseph. "I cannot go into the army, " he said quickly. "No--you are a Chouan at heart, I know, " said Hervé. He added presently, as the young man stood silent and doubtful beforehim--"You will give me your word of honour, Angelot, that there is nomore of this--that you do not attempt to see my daughter again. " Angelot answered him, after a moment's pause, "I warn you that I shallbreak my word, if I hear more of Ratoneau. " "The devil take Ratoneau!" replied his cousin. "You will give me yourword, and I will give you mine. I will never consent to such a marriageas that for Hélène. Are you satisfied now?" "You give me life and hope, " said Angelot. "Not at all. It is not for your sake, I assure you. " Angelot's poor love went to bed that night in a passion of tears. Thetime came for her to know and confess that Angelot's father, when hebarred the postern door, might have had more than one guardian angelbehind him; but that time was not yet. CHAPTER XVII HOW TWO SOLDIERS CAME HOME FROM SPAIN The family scandal was great. Angelot, if he had ever thought about suchpossibilities at all, would never have imagined that his relations couldbe so angry with him; and this without exception. Monsieur de Sainfoy, the most entirely justified, was by far the gentlest. Madame deSainfoy's flame of furious wrath enveloped every one. She refused atfirst even to see Monsieur Urbain; she vowed that she would leaveLancilly at once, take Hélène back to Paris, let the odious old placefall back into the ruin from which she wished it had never been rescued, shake herself and her children free from the contact of these low, insolent cousins who presumed so far on their position, on the gratitudethat might be supposed due to them. Urbain, however, having stuck to hispoint and obtained a private interview with her, in which he promisedthat his son should be sent away, or at least should annoy her no more, her tone became a little milder and she did not insist on breaking upthe establishment. After all, Urbain pointed out, _Tout va bien!_ It wasto be expected that an imperial order would very soon decide Hélène'sfuture and check for ever young Angelot's ambition. Madame de Sainfoyperceived that it was worth while to wait. In the meantime, the philosopher's nature was stirred to its depths. Ifit had not been for his wife's strong opposition, he would have insistedon Angelot's accepting one of those commissions which Napoleon wasalways ready to give to young men of good family, sometimes indeed, whenthe family was known to be strongly Royalist, making themsub-lieutenants in spite of themselves and throwing them into prison ifthey refused to serve. Anne would not have it. She was as angry withAngelot as any one. That he should not only have been taken captive, soul and body, by Lancilly, but should have put himself so hopelessly inthe wrong, filled her with rage and grief. But she would not havematters made worse by committing her boy to the Empire. She wouldrather, as Monsieur Joseph suggested, pack him off across the frontierto join the army of the Princes. But then, again, his father would neverconsent to that. "Why do they not send the girl away!" she cried. "Why not send her to aParis convent till they find a husband for her! We do not want her here, with that pale face and those tragic eyes of hers, making havoc of ouryoung men. I respect Hervé for refusing that horrible General, but whydoes he not take means to find some one else! They are beyond myunderstanding, Hervé and Adélaïde. I wish they had never come back, never brought that girl here to distract my Angelot. He was free andhappy till they came. Ah, mon Dieu! how they make me suffer, thesepeople!" "Do not blame them for Angelot's dishonourable weakness, " said herhusband, sternly. "If your son had possessed reason and self-control, which I have tried in vain all my life to teach him, none of all thisneed have happened. There is no excuse for him. " "I am making none. I am very angry with him. I am not blaming your dearSainfoys. I only say that if they had never come, or if Providence hadgiven them an ugly daughter, this could not have happened. You will nottry to deny that, I suppose!" He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Your logic is faultless, my dear Anne. If you had not married me, therewould have been no handsome boy to fall in love with a pretty girl. Andif La Marinière had not been near Lancilly--" "Are you ever serious?" she said, and swept out of the room. His strong face was grave enough as he looked after her. But in Angelot's presence there was no such philosophical trifling. Hewas made to feel himself in deep disgrace with both his parents, and hewas young enough to feel it very keenly. After the first tremendousscolding, they hardly spoke to him; he went in and out in a gloomysilence most strange to the sunny life of La Marinière. And at LesChouettes it was no better. In truth, Angelot found his uncle Joseph's deep displeasure harder tobear than that of any one else. There was something clandestine aboutthe affair which touched the little gentleman's sense of honour; hiscode of manners and good breeding was also offended. He knew life; hisown younger days had been stormy; and even now, though respectingmorality, he was not strict or narrow. But such adventures as this ofAngelot's seemed to him on a lower plane of society than belonged toLancilly or La Marinière. A secret meeting at night; climbing ivy like athief; making use of his familiarity with the old house to do what, after all, was an injury as well as an offence to its owners, --all thiswas matter of deep disgust to Monsieur Joseph. "I thought Ange was a gentleman!" he said; and to Henriette, who withbitter tears confessed to him her part in the story, he would not evenadmire the daring spirit in which he and she had often rejoicedtogether. "Hélène's fault, you say, child? No, we will not make that excuse forhim. If the poor girl was unhappy, there were other ways--" "But what could he have done, papa? Now you are very unkind. If sheasked him to come, could he have said no? Is that the way for agentleman to treat a lady?" Riette had posed him, and she knew it. But she did not reap any personaladvantage. "As to that, " he said, "the whole thing was your fault. I did not sendyou to Lancilly to carry messages, but to learn your lessons. What didit matter to you if your cousin Hélène was unhappy? In this world wemust all be unhappy sometimes, as you will find. Go to bed at once. Consider yourself in disgrace. You will stay in your room for two dayson bread and water, and you will not go to Lancilly again for a longtime, perhaps never. I am sorry I ever sent you there, but in futureMademoiselle Hélène's affairs will be arranged without you. " Riette went obediently away, shaking her head. As she went upstairs sheheard her father calling to Marie Gigot, giving severe commands in anervous voice, and she smiled faintly through her tears. "Nevertheless, little papa, we love our Ange, you and I!" she said. Angelot wandered about solitary with his gun and Négo, avoiding theLancilly side of the country, and keeping to his father's and hisuncle's land, where game abounded. For the present his good spirits wereeffectually crushed; and yet, even now, his native hopefulness rose andcomforted him. It was true every one was angry; it was true he had givenhis word of honour not to attempt to see Hélène, and at any moment herfuture might be decided without him; but on the other hand, her fatherhad promised that she should not marry Ratoneau; and he and she, theywere both young, they loved each other; somehow, some day, the futurecould hardly fail to be theirs. In the meantime, Angelot was better off among his woods and moorlandsthan Hélène in her locked room, all the old labyrinths and secret waysdiscovered and stopped. The vintage was very near, for the last days ofSeptember had come. Again a young moon was rising over the country, forthe moon which lighted Hélène to La Marinière on her first evening inAnjou had waned and gone. And the heather had faded, the woods andcopses began to be tinted with bronze, to droop after the long, hotseason, only broken by two or three thunderstorms. The evenings weredrawing in, the mornings began to be chilly; autumn, even lovelier thansummer in that climate which has the seasons of the poets, was giving anew freshness to the air and a new colour to the landscape. One day towards evening Angelot visited La Joubardière. He went to thefarm a good deal at this time, for it was pleasant to see faces that didnot frown upon him, but smiled a constant welcome, and there was alwaysthe excuse of talking to Joubard about the vintage. And again, thisevening, the Maîtresse brought out a bottle of her best wine, and thetwo old people talked of their son at the war; and all the time theywere very well aware that something was wrong with Monsieur Angelot, whom they had known and loved from his cradle. The good wife's eyestwinkled a little as she watched him, and if nothing had happened laterto distract her thoughts, she would have told her husband that the boywas in love. Joubard put down the young master's strange looks toanxiety, not unfounded, about his uncle Joseph and the Chouan gentlemen. Since Simon's spying and questioning, Joubard had taken a more seriousview of these matters. "Monsieur Angelot has been at Les Chouettes to-day?" he said. "No? Ah, perhaps it is as well. There were two gentlemen shooting with MonsieurJoseph--I think they were Monsieur des Barres and Monsieur Césard'Ombré. A little dangerous, such company. Monsieur Joseph perhapsthinks a young man is better out of it. " Angelot did not answer, and turned the conversation back to the vintage. "Yes, I believe it will be magnificent, " said the farmer. "If Martinwere only here to help me! But it is hard for me, alone, to do my dutyby the vines. Hired labour is such a different thing. I believe in theold rhyme:-- 'L'ombre du bon maître Fait la vigne croître!' Monsieur your father explained to me the meaning of it, that there mustbe no trees in or near the vineyard, no shadow but that of the master. He found that in a book, he said. Surely, I thought, a man must haveplenty of time on his hands, to write a book to prove what every childknows. Now I take its meaning to be deeper than that. There is a shadowthe vine needs and can't do without. You may talk as you please aboutsun and air and showers; 'tis the master's eye and hand and shadow thatgives growth and health to the vines. " "Don't forget the good God, " said Maîtresse Joubard. "All the shadows ofthe best masters won't do much without Him. " "Did I say so?" Her husband turned upon her. "It is His will, I suppose, that things are so. We must take His creation as we find it. All I sayis, He gives me too much to do, when He sets me on a farm with five sonsand leaves me there but takes them all away. " "Hush, hush, master; Martin will come back, " his wife said. Nearly a month ago she had said the same. Angelot, standing again in thelow dark kitchen with her slender old glass in his hand, remembered theday vividly, for it had indeed been a marked day in his life. Thebreakfast at Les Chouettes, the hidden Chouans, General Ratoneau and hisadventure in the lane, and then the wonderful moonlight evening, thecoming of Hélène, the dreams which all that night waited upon her andhad filled all the following days. Yes; it was on that glorious morningthat Maîtresse Joubard, poor soul, had talked with so much faith andcourage of her Martin's return. And Angelot, for his part, though hewould not for worlds have said so, saw no hope of it at all. The lastletter from Martin had come many months ago. The poor conscript, theyoung Angevin peasant, tall like his father, with his mother's quiet, dark face, was probably lying heaped and hidden among other deadconscripts at the foot of some Spanish fortress wall. Angelot set down his glass, took up his gun, looked vaguely out of thedoor into the misty evening, bright with the spiritual brilliance of theyoung moon. "If Martin comes back, anything is possible, " he was thinking. "I shouldbelieve then that all would go well with me. " From the white, ruinous archway that opened on the lane, a figurehobbled slowly forward across the gleams and shadows of the yard. Thegreat dog chained there began to yelp and cry; it was not the voice withwhich he received a stranger; Négo growled at his master's feet. Angelot's gaze became fixed and intent. The figure looked like one ofthose wandering beggars, those _chemineaux_, who tramped the roads ofFrance with a bag to collect bones and crusts of bread, the scraps offood which no good Christian refused them, who haunted the lonely farmsat night and to whom a stray lamb or kid or chicken never came amiss. This figure was ragged like them; it stooped, and limped upon a woodenleg and a stick; an empty sleeve was pinned across its breast. And therags were those of a soldier's uniform, and the dark, bent face wastanned by hotter suns than the sun of Anjou. Angelot turned to the old Joubards and tried to speak, but his voiceshook and was choked, and the tears blinded his eyes. "My poor dear friends--" he was beginning, but Joubard started forwardsuddenly. "What steps are those in the yard? The dog speaks--ah!" The old man rushed through the doorway with arms stretched out, wildlysobbing, "Martin, Martin, my boy!"--and clasped the miserable figure ina long embrace. "Did I not say so, Monsieur Angelot?" the little mother cried; and theyoung man, with a sudden instinct of joy and reverence, caught her roughhand and kissed it as she went out of the door. "Tell madame she wasright, " she said. Angelot called Négo and walked silently away. As he went he heard theircries of welcome, their sobs of grief, and then he heard a hoarse voiceringing, echoed by the old walls all about, and it shouted--"Vivel'Empereur!" Angelot felt strangely exalted as he walked away. The heroism of thecrippled soldier touched him keenly; this was the Empire in a differentaspect from any that he yet knew; the opportunism of his father and ofMonsieur de Mauves, the bare worldliness of the Sainfoys, the militarybrutality of Ratoneau. The voice of this poor soldier, wandering back, ahelpless, destitute wreck, to end his days in his old home, sounded likethe bugle-call of all that generous self-sacrifice, that pure enthusiasmfor glory, which rose to follow Napoleon and made his career possible. Angelot felt as if he too could march in such an army. Then as he strodedown the moor he heard Hervé de Sainfoy's voice again: "And why not evennow?" and again he thought of those dearest ones now so angry with him, whose loyalty to old France and her kings was a part of their religion, and whom no present brilliancy of conquest and fame could dazzle or leadastray. Thinking of these things, Angelot came down from the moor into a narrowlane which skirted it, part of the labyrinth of crossing ways which ledfrom the south to La Marinière and Lancilly. This lane was joined, someway above, by the road which led across the moor from Les Chouettes. Itwas not the usual road from the south to Lancilly, but turned out ofthat a mile or two south, to wander westward round one or two lonelyfarms like La Joubardière. It ran deep between banks of stones coveredwith heather and ling and a wild mass of broom and blackberry bushes, the great round heads of the pollard oaks rising at intervals, so thatthere were patches of dark shadow, and the road itself was a successionof formidable ruts and holes and enormous stones. In this thoroughfare two carriages had met, one going down-hill from themoorland road, the other, a heavy post-chaise and pair, climbing fromthe south. It was impossible for either conveyance to pass the other, and a noisy argument went on, first between the post-boy and the groomwho drove the private carriage, a hooded, four-wheeled conveyance of thecountry, next between the travellers themselves. Angelot came down from the steep footpath by which he had crossed themoor, just as the occupant of the post-chaise, after shouting angrilyfrom the window, had got out to see the state of things for himself. Hewas a stranger to Angelot; a tall and very handsome young man of his ownage, with a travelling cloak thrown over his showy uniform. "What the devil is the matter? Why don't you drive on, you fool?" hesaid to the post-boy, who only gesticulated and pointed hopelessly tothe obstacle in front of him. "Well, but drive through them, or over them, or something, " cried theimperious young voice. "Are you going to stop here all night staring atthem? What is it? Some kind of _diligence_? Look here, fellow--you, driver--get out of my way, can't you? Mille tonnerres, what a road! Getdown and take your horse out, do you hear? Lead him up the bank, andthen drag your machine out of the way. Any one with you? Here is a man;he can help you. Service of the Emperor; no delay. " Apparently he took Angelot, in the dusk, for a country lad going home. Before there was time to show him his mistake, a dark, angry face bentforward from the hooded carriage, and Angelot recognised the Barond'Ombré, who gave his orders in a tone quite as peremptory, and muchhaughtier. "Post-boy! Back your carriage down the hill. You see very well thatthere is no room to pass here. Pardon, monsieur!" with a slight saluteto the officer. "Pardon!" he responded quickly. "Sorry to derange you, monsieur, but mychaise will not be backed. Service of His Majesty. " "That is nothing to me, monsieur. " "The devil! Who are you then?" "I will give you my card with pleasure. " César d'Ombré descended hastily from the carriage, while Monsieur desBarres, who was with him, leaned forward rather anxiously. "Explain the rule of the road to this gentleman, " he said. "He isevidently a stranger. I see he has two servants behind the carriage, whocan help in backing the horses. Explain that it is no intentionaldiscourtesy, but a simple necessity. The delay will be small. " The tall young stranger bowed in the direction of the voice. "Merci, monsieur. Your rules of the road do not concern me. I give wayto no one--certainly not to your companion, who appears to be disloyal. I had forgotten, for a moment, the character of this country. The darkages still flourish here, I believe. " The Baron d'Ombré presented his card with a low bow. "Merci, monsieur. Permit me to return the compliment. But it is almosttoo dark for you to see my name, which ought to be well known here. DeSainfoy, Captain 13th Chasseurs, at your service. Will you oblige me--" "It is not necessary at this moment, monsieur. You will not meet me atthe Château de Lancilly. " "But you may possibly meet me--Vicomte des Barres--for your father and Isometimes put our old acquaintance before politics--" cried the voicefrom the carriage. "You will be very welcome to your family. But thisarranges matters, Monsieur le Capitaine, for you are on the wrong road. " "Sapristi! The wrong road! Why, I picked up a wounded fellow and broughthim a few miles. He got down to take a short cut home, and told me thenext turn to the right would bring me to Lancilly. He was lying, then? Afellow called Joubard, not of my regiment. " "What do you say?" said d'Ombré to Angelot, who had already greeted him, lingering in the background to see the end of the dispute. Georges de Sainfoy now first looked at the sportsman standing by theroadside, and Angelot looked at him. Monsieur des Barres, a little stifffrom a long day's shooting--for he was not so lithe and active as hishost, and not so young as the Baron--now got down from the carriage andjoined the group. "Bonjour, Monsieur Ange, " he said kindly. "You have been shooting, Isee, but not with your uncle. Have you met before, you two?" He glancedat Georges de Sainfoy, who stared haughtily. Even in the dim duskAngelot could see that he was wonderfully like his mother. "No, monsieur, " he answered. "Not since twenty years ago, at least, andI think my cousin remembers that time as little as I do. " He spoke carelessly and lightly. De Sainfoy's fine blue eyes consideredhim coldly, measured his height and breadth and found them wanting. "Ah! You are a La Marinière, I suppose?" he said. "Ange de la Marinière, at your service. " Georges held out his hand. It was with an oddly unwilling sensation thatAngelot gave his. Though the action might be friendly, there wassomething slighting, something impatient, in the stranger's manner; andthe cousins already disliked each other, not yet knowing why. "Are my family well? Do they expect me?" said Georges de Sainfoy. "I believe they are very well. I do not know if they expect you, "Angelot answered. "Is it true that this is not the road to Lancilly?" D'Ombré growled something about military insolence, and Monsieur desBarres laughed. "Pardon, gentlemen, " said De Sainfoy. "I am impatient, I know. A soldieron his way home does not expect to be stopped by etiquettes aboutpassing on the road. My cousin knows the country; I appeal to him, asone of you did just now. Is this the way to Lancilly, or not?" Angelot laughed. "Yes--and no, " he said. "What do you mean by that? Come, I am in no humour for joking. " Angelot looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. "It is _a_ road, but not _the_ road, " he said. "No one in his senseswould drive this way to Lancilly. This part of it is bad enough; furtheron, where it goes down into the valley, it is much worse; I doubt if aheavy carriage could pass. You turned to the right too soon. MartinJoubard forgot this lane, perhaps. He would hardly have directed youthis way--unless--" "Unless what?" "Unless he wished to show you the nature of the country, in case youshould think of invading it in force. " The two Chouans laughed. "Well said, Angelot!" muttered César d'Ombré. Georges de Sainfoy, stiff and haughty, did not trouble himself about anyjest or earnest concealed under his cousin's speech and the way theneighbours took it. He realised, perhaps, that in this wild west countrythe name of Napoleon was not altogether one to conjure with, that he hadnot left the enemies of the Empire behind him in Spain. But he realised, too, that this was hardly the place or the time to assert his ownimportance and his master's authority. "Do you mean that this road is utterly impassable?" he said to Angelot. "How then did these gentlemen--" "They did not come from Lancilly. They drove across the moor from myuncle's house, Les Chouettes, and turned into the lane a few hundredyards higher up. As to impassable--I think your wheels will come off, ifyou attempt it, and your horses' knees will suffer. Where the ruts arenot two feet deep, the bare rock is almost perpendicular. " "Still it is not impassable?" "Not in a case of necessity. But you will not attempt it. " "And why not?" "Because on this hill Monsieur des Barres and Monsieur d'Ombré cannotback out of your way, and you can back out of theirs--and must. " "'Must' to me!" Georges de Sainfoy said between his teeth. "Let us assure you, monsieur, that we regret the necessity--" Monsieurdes Barres interfered in his politest manner. "Enough, monsieur. " De Sainfoy gave his orders. His servants sprang down and helped thepost-boy to back the horses to the foot of the hill. It was a longbusiness, with a great deal of kicking, struggling, scrambling, andswearing. Monsieur des Barres' carriage followed slowly, he and Georgesde Sainfoy walking down together. The Baron d'Ombré lingered to say afriendly good-night to Angelot, who was not disposed to wait on hiscousin any further. That night there was born a kind of sympathy, newand strange, between the fierce young Chouan and the careless boy stillhalting between two opinions. "Old Joubard's son is come back, then?" César asked. "Will that attachthe old man to the Empire? Your uncle can never tell us on which side heis likely to be. " "Dame! I should think not!" said Angelot. "Poor Martin--I saw him justnow. He has left a leg and an arm in Spain. " "Poor fellow! That flourishing cousin of yours is better off. On myword, we are obliged to you, Monsieur des Barres and I. If you had notbeen there to bring him to his senses--Come, Angelot, this country isnot a place for loyal men. Do you care to stay here and be bullied byupstart soldiers? Start off with me to join the Princes; there isnothing to be done here. " "Ah!" Angelot laughed, though rather sadly. "Indeed, you tempt me--it istrue, there is nothing here. But I have a father, and he has a vintagecoming on. After that--I will consider. " "Yes, consider--and say nothing. I see you are discontented; the firststep in the right way. Good-night, my friend. " If discontent had been despair, the army of the emigrants might have hada lively recruit in those days. But Martin Joubard had come back, sothat anything seemed possible. Hope was not dead, and his native Anjoustill held the heart of Angelot. CHAPTER XVIII HOW CAPTAIN GEORGES PAID A VISIT OF CEREMONY Georges de Sainfoy had always been his mother's image and idol. It wasnot wonderful then that he should take her side strongly in this matterof his sister's love affair and marriage. Hélène, for him, was a poor pretty fool just out of the schoolroom, whomust learn her duty in life, and the sooner the better. Angelot was acountry boy, his pretensions below contempt, who yet deserved sharppunishment for lifting his eyes so high, if not for the cool air ofequality with which he had ordered back his superior cousin's carriage. General Ratoneau, in a soldier's eyes, was a distinguished man, a futureMarshal of France. Nothing more was needed to make him a desirablebrother-in-law. Georges was enthusiastic on that point. Two things there were, which his mother impressed upon him earnestly andwith difficulty; one, that Ratoneau's probable triumph was a secret, andmust seem as great a surprise to herself and to him as it really wouldbe to Hélène and his father; the other, that for the sake of Urbain dela Marinière, the valuable friend, he must pick no fresh quarrel withAngelot, already deep in disgrace with all the family. "It is as well that you told me, or I should have been tempted to try ahorse-whipping, " said Captain Georges. Two days after his arrival he rode off to Sonnay-le-Loir. It was theright thing for an officer on leave to pay a visit of ceremony to theGeneral in command of the division, as well as to the Prefect of thedepartment, and this necessity came in very well at the moment. Madame de Sainfoy spoke confidently, but she was in reality not quiteeasy in her mind. She had seen and heard nothing of General Ratoneausince the day when Urbain put his short letter into her hand. Sometimes, impatient and anxious, worried by Hélène's pale face and the fear ofsome soft-hearted weakness on Hervé's part, she found it difficult tobear day after day of suspense and silence. Suppose the affair weregoing ill, and not well! Suppose that, after all, the Prefect hadrefused to gratify the General, and that no imperial command was comingto break down Hervé's resistance, strong enough in that quarter! Georgespromised her, as he rode away, that the matter should be cleared up toher satisfaction. He found the town of Sonnay-le-Loir, and General Ratoneau himself, in astate of considerable agitation. The excellent Prefect was very ill. Hewas never a strong man physically, and the nervous irritation caused bysuch a colleague as Ratoneau might have been partly the cause of hispresent collapse. Sorely against his will he had listened to Ratoneau'sfresh argument, and had consented to stop a whole string of politicalarrests by forwarding the marriage the General had set his heart upon. His own personal danger, if he had defied the General, would have beenby no means small. Simon was right; Ratoneau could have represented hismild measures in such a light as to ruin him, along with those Angevingentlemen whom he was trying by gentle means to reconcile with theEmpire. At that precise moment he could not even punish the man hesuspected of betraying him. Ratoneau had protected his tool so far as toleave him nameless; but in any case, from the imperial point of view, aman who denounced Chouans was doing his duty. As to the fact of sendingup Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's name to the Emperor and suggesting for herthe very husband whom her father had refused to accept--the chief sin, in the eyes of that day, was the unfriendly action towards her father. The whole system was odious; it appeared more or less so, according tothe degree of refinement in the officials who had to work it; yet itcame from the Emperor, and could not be entirely set aside; also everymarriage, in one way or another, was an arranged thing; it must suitfamily politics, if not the interests of the Empire. Nothing strangefrom the outside--and all the world would look at it so--in the marriageof the Comte de Sainfoy's daughter with the local General of division. The lady's unwillingness was a mere detail, of which the laws of societywould take no cognizance. The sentimental view which called such amarriage sacrilege was absurd, after all, and the Prefect knew it. Indeed, after the first, the thought of Hélène's face did not troublehim so much as that of the _coup de patte_ in store for her father, thestealthy blow to come from himself, the old, the trustedfellow-countryman. But the injury to Hervé de Sainfoy weighed lightly, after all, whenbalanced with the arrest and ruin of Joseph de la Marinière and possiblyhis young nephew, as well as of Monsieur des Barres, Monsieur deBourmont, the Messieurs d'Ombré, and other men more or less suspected ofconspiring against the Empire. Even if this, perhaps deserved, had beenall! but the Prefect knew very well that an enemy such as Ratoneau wouldnot be satisfied without his own degradation. He had yet one resource, delay. There was the chance that Hervé deSainfoy might arrange some other marriage for his daughter; and thePrefect went so far as to consider the possibility of sending him a wordof warning, but then thought it too dangerous, not quite trustingHervé's discretion, and gave up the idea. From day to day he put offsending the necessary papers to Paris. From day to day, after theeventful interview, he managed to avoid any private conversation withRatoneau. This was possible, as the General was occupied in reviewingthe troops in the neighbourhood, and was absent from Sonnay for severaldays. Then a new ally stepped in on Hélène's side, and touched thePrefect gently, but effectively. When General Ratoneau returned toSonnay, the very day before Georges de Sainfoy's visit, he was met bythe news that a slight stroke of paralysis had deprived Monsieur deMauves of his speech, and of the use of his right hand. Going at once tothe Prefecture, roughly demanding an interview with the Prefect, heencountered a will stronger than his own in that of the Sonnay doctor, who absolutely refused to let any one into the sickroom. "But he must have written to Paris--he must--he promised me that hewould, " Ratoneau assured Georges de Sainfoy, who stood before himfrowning doubtfully. "He dared not disappoint me. I have him under mythumb, I tell you--like that--" he crushed a fly on the table. "I see--but why all this delay?" said the young man. Ratoneau drummed with his fist and whistled. "Delay, yes--" he said. "Imeant Monsieur le Préfet to give an account of himself yesterday--Isuppose I am as impatient as you are--" he grinned. "After all, monsieur, this official business takes time. It is only a fortnightsince I brought the good man to his marrow-bones. Ah, I wish you hadseen him! the grimaces he made! When I went first he defied me, as boldas you please. Your father was his friend, he would do nothing to annoyyour father. Then, when I went back with a little more information, hebegan to see all his beloved Chouans in prison, as well as himself. Ihad him then. He began to see, perhaps, that a man in my position wasnot such an impossible husband for a young girl of good family. Ha, ha!" "A fortnight seems to me quite long enough to write to Paris and get ananswer, " said Georges. He was a little sorry for himself. He wished he had seen Ratoneau forthe first time on horseback, a smart, correct officer, reviewing histroops. Then it would have been easy enough to accept him as abrother-in-law. But this red-faced, slovenly creature in carelessundress, made even more repulsive by his uncanny likeness toNapoleon--vulgar in manners, bragging in talk! De Sainfoy had metstrange varieties of men among his brother officers, but never anythingquite so forbidding as this. He did not give his sister a thought ofpity; it was not in him; but he had a moment of sympathy with hisfather, of surprise at his mother. However, he was not the man to beconquered by prejudice. If the affair was disagreeable, all the morereason to push it through quickly, to reach any advantages it mightbring. His smooth young brow had a new line across it; that was all. "You talk of the Prefect's 'beloved Chouans, ' Monsieur le Général, " hesaid. "It seems to me that in any case he is not fit for his position. It sounds like treason, what you say. " "Ah! that is another question, " said Ratoneau. "That need not concern usjust now, you and me. He must do what we want, first of all; later on weshall see. Remember, Monsieur le Vicomte, any active measures againstthe Chouans would touch your family--your connections, at least. Verycomplicated, the state of society in this province. I wish for nothingbetter than to sweep out all these tiresome people, but it behoves me tomove gently. " Georges could not help smiling. "That must be against your principlesand your inclinations, Monsieur le Général. " "It is against my interests, " Ratoneau said, drily enough. "Inclinations--well, yes. I should be sorry to annoy Monsieur Urbain dela Marinière, who is on my side in these affairs. He is a sensible man. His brother's right place is in a state prison. As to that son ofhis--well, he wants a sharp lesson, and one of these days he will haveit. He is an impudent young scoundrel, that little La Marinière. " Ratoneau lifted his dark eyes and looked straight at Georges, whoflushed under his gaze. "But perhaps you think better of your cousin?" the General said. "No--I dislike him. He is a presumptuous fellow. " "Presumptuous in what way?" Georges shrugged his shoulders. There were limits to the complaisance hefound due to this future relation; the family secrets, the familyconfidences, though they might indirectly concern him, should at leastbe kept from him for the present. Georges knew all his sister's story, as far as her mother knew it. The story was safe, though out of nokindness to Hélène. "He thinks too much of himself, " said Georges, and laughed ratherawkwardly. "He orders his betters about as if he were the chieflandowner of the country, instead of a farmer's son. This happened to methe other night, Monsieur le Général. " He went on to describe his adventure in the steep lane, and how Angelothad ordered his men to back the horses. The General listened with someimpatience. "Sapristi! he is a hero of the lanes, this Angelot. I have had myexperience, too, " but he did not describe it. "He will make himselfplenty of enemies, that cousin of yours. However, let him swagger as helikes among horses and cows, till he finds himself between four wallswith his friends the Chouans. I should like to be assured that his airswill carry him no further. To speak plainly, Monsieur le Vicomte, when Isaw them together at Lancilly, I fancied that he and mademoiselle yoursister--I see by your face that I was right!" The General started up with an oath. Georges faced him, cool anddignified. "My sister is safe in my mother's care, Monsieur le Général. Do notdisturb yourself. " "But do you know, monsieur, that the servants thought the same as Idid?" "What can that signify to you or to me, monsieur?" Ratoneau flung himself back into his chair with an angry laugh. Theproud disgust of the young captain's tone had a certain effect upon him;yet he was not altogether reassured. "Will you tell me on your honour, " he growled, "that you know nothing ofany love affair between that young cub and your sister? I swear, sir, Idistrust you all. It is your mother's interest to marry her to me, but--" "The imperial order has not yet been sent down, " said Georges, his blueeyes flashing like steel. He would have said more; he did not know what he might have said, for atthat moment his sympathy with his father was growing by leaps andbounds, and his mother's plan began to seem incomprehensible. However, to do her justice, she had never seen General Ratoneau as he saw him. "What do you mean by that?" said Ratoneau, sharply, and Georges foundhimself already repenting. For the thing had to be carried through, and he knew it. Further argument was stopped, at that moment, by a gentle tap at thedoor. "Come in!" roared the General. "What the devil have you got there, Simon?" The police agent stepped lightly across the room. He laid a folded paperon the table, and drew out from between its pages an unsealed letter. Hespread this out with the signature uppermost, "_De Mauves, Préfet duLoir. _" Georges de Sainfoy, a silent looker-on, stood by the chimneypiece whileGeneral Ratoneau eagerly seized the papers. He first read the letter, which seemed to give him satisfaction, for he laughed aloud; then hesnatched up the larger document, which looked like a government reportof some kind. Simon, in his gendarme's dress, stood grinning in thebackground. "But--but in the name of thunder what does all this mean?" Ratoneau'slooks had changed to sudden fury. "Are these copies or originals? Simon, you ass, do you mean to tell me--" Simon shrugged his shoulders and showed his teeth. "Sorry, Monsieur le Général, but no fault of mine! I made sure they hadgone to Paris by the last courier, if not before. The originals, undoubtedly. " "You make sure in a queer sort of way, " said Ratoneau. "You told me thePrefect's secretary was in your hands, that you had access to hisbureaux at any time. You lied, then?" "No, Monsieur le Général, " Simon answered, gently and readily. "Or howshould I have got hold of the papers? We have nothing to do now but toget them dispatched at once to the Minister of Police, who will passthem on to Monsieur le Duc de Frioul. " "Go downstairs, and wait till I send for you. " Simon went, not without a side-glance at the silent young officer, standing tall, fair, and stiff as if on parade, no feeling of any sortshowing itself through the correctness of his bearing. "Is that her brother? Curious!" the spy muttered as he slipped away. General Ratoneau ran his eye once more over the paper in his hand, thenlooked at Georges and held it out to him. "The delay is vexatious, " he said, "and my friend the Prefect shall payfor it, one of these days. But at any rate, the thing is now in our ownhands, and there can be no cheating. Report and letter are what theyshould be--I might have guessed that the old villain would put offsending them--hoping for some loophole, I suppose. However, you can tellMadame la Comtesse that you have seen the documents, and that theystart for Paris to-night. " Georges de Sainfoy read the document, truly a strange one, and it was astrange sort of man who had the effrontery to put it into his hand. Likea flash of blinding light, it showed the revolutionary, the tyrannicalside of the Empire which had fascinated him on its side of militaryglory. This paper gave a full description, as officially demanded, ofMademoiselle Hélène de Sainfoy, aged nineteen. It mentioned her personalattractions, her _éducation distinguée_, her probable dowry, the namesand position of her parents, the extent and situation of herproperty--in short, every particular likely to be useful in arranging amarriage for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. It was all highly complimentary, and it was supposed to be a confidential communication from the Prefectto Savary, Duc de Rovigo, the Minister of Police. But it was notpleasant reading for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's brother, howeverdevotedly imperialist he might be. He stepped forward and laid it on the table without a remark. Ratoneau, watching him keenly, smiled, and held out the letter. "A private letter from Monsieur le Préfet? I do not read it, " saidGeorges, shortly. "As you please, my friend, " said Ratoneau. "I only show you these thingsfor the satisfaction of Madame la Comtesse. Monsieur Urbain de laMarinière may be interested, too. The letter mentions my distinguishedclaims on His Majesty, and suggests me as a husband for mademoiselle. That is all. I think it will be effectual. But now, monsieur, you havenot answered my little question about your cousin Angelot. He is in lovewith your sister, n'est-ce pas?" "As you put it so, monsieur, I think it is not unlikely, " said Georges. "But what does that signify? Every one knows it is an impossibility, even himself, ambitious fool as he may be. " "And the young lady?" said Ratoneau, his face darkening. "My mother answers for her, " Georges answered coldly, and bowed himselfout. He had information enough to carry back to his mother. He was not too comfortable in his mind, having ideas of honour, at theunscrupulous doings by which Hélène's future husband was protecting hisown interests and bringing his marriage about. He rather wished, thoughhe worshipped power, that this powerful General had been a differentsort of man. "Still he may make her a good husband, " he thought. "He is jealousalready. " He rode across the square, gay and stately in his Chasseur uniform, anddismounted at the Prefecture to leave his card and to enquire forMonsieur de Mauves. Ratoneau watched him from the window with a dissatisfied frown, thenrang sharply for Simon. "That young fellow would turn against me on small provocation, " he said. "Now--as to the seal for these papers--you can procure that, I suppose?" "Leave that to me, monsieur. " "Another thing: this means further delay, and I am not sure that youwere entirely wrong about young La Marinière. Listen. He would be betterout of the way until this affair is settled. He has been met in companywith known Chouans. A word to the wise, Simon. Devise something, or goto the devil, for I've done with you. " "But there is nothing easier, monsieur! Nothing in the world!" Simoncried joyfully. CHAPTER XIX THE TREADING OF THE GRAPES The weather for the vintage was splendid. A slight frost in the morningcurled and yellowed the vine-leaves, giving, as it does in theseprovinces, the last touch of ripeness to the grapes, so that they beginto burst their thin skins and to drop from the bunches. This is theperfect moment. Crickets sing; the land is alive with springinggrasshoppers; harmless snakes rustle through the grass and bask in thewarm sand. The sun shines through an air so light, so crystal clear, that men and beasts hardly know fatigue, though they work under hisbeams all day long. The evening closes early with hovering mists in thelow places, the sudden chill of a country still wild andhalf-cultivated. This was the moment, in an older France, chosen for theSeigneur's vintage; the peasants had to deal with their own littlevineyards either earlier or later, and thus their wine was never so goodas his. The laws of the vintage were old; they were handed down throughcenturies, from the days of the Romans, but the Revolution swept themand their obligations away. Napoleon's code knew nothing of them. Yetprivate individuals, when they were clever men like Urbain de laMarinière, were sure by hook or by crook to arrange the vintage at thetime that suited their private arrangements. The ancient connection, once of lord and vassal, now of landlord and tenant, between LaMarinière and La Joubardière, had been hardly at all disturbed by theRevolution. Joubard was not the man to turn against the old friends ofhis family. Besides, he believed in the waning moon. So when MonsieurUrbain hit on the precise moment for his own vintage, and summoned himand his people, as well as Monsieur Joseph's people, to help at LaMarinière and to let their own vineyards wait a week or two, he made nogrievance of it. "The weather will last, " he said, when Martin grumbled, "and the moonwill be better. Besides, those slopes are always forwarder than ours. And we shall lose nothing by helping the master. But if we did, I wouldrather spoil my own wine than disappoint Monsieur Angelot. " "You and the mother are in love with his pretty face, " growled thesoldier. "Why doesn't he go to the war, and fight for his country, andcome home a fine man like his cousin? Ah, you think there are differentways of coming home, do you? Well, if you ask me, I am prouder of mylost limbs than the young captain is of his rank and his uniform. " "And Monsieur Angelot honours you, poor Martin, more than he does hissmart cousin, " said Joubard. "Allons! Our vintage will not suffer, nowthat you are at home to see to it. And they will not take you awayagain, my son!" So, in those first days of October, the vintage was in full swing at LaMarinière. All the peasants came to help, men and women, old and young. Dark, grave faces that matched oddly with a babel of voices and gaylaughter; broad straw hats as sunburnt as their owners, white caps, blueshoulders, bobbing among the long rows of bronzed vines loaded withfruit. The vintagers cut off the bunches with sharp knives and droppedthem into wooden pails; these were emptied into great _hottes_ on men'sbacks, and carried to the carts, full of barrels, waiting in the lane. Slowly the patient white horses tramped down to the yard of LaMarinière. There, in its own whitewashed building with the wide-archeddoor, the stone wine-press was ready; the grapes were thrown in inheaps, the barefooted men, splashed red to their waists, trod andcrushed with a swishing sound; the red juice ran down in a stream, foaming into the vault beneath, into the vats where it was to fermentand become wine. Angelot worked in the vineyard like anybody else, sometimes cuttinggrapes, sometimes leading the carts up and down, and feeding the horseswith bunches of grapes, which they munched contentedly. So did the dogswho waited on the vintagers, not daring to venture in among the vines, but sitting outside with eager eyes and wagging tails till their portionof fruit was thrown to them. And the workers themselves, and the littlebullet-headed boys and white-capped girls who played about the vineyard, all ate grapes to their satisfaction; for the crop was splendid, andthere was no need to stint anybody. A festal spirit reigned over all. Though most of these people were goodChristians, ready to thank God for His gifts without any intention ofmisusing them, there was something of the old pagan feeling about. Purely a country feeling, a natural religion much older thanChristianity, as Urbain remarked to the old Curé, who agreed with MadameUrbain in not quite caring for this way of looking at it. But he wasaccustomed to such views from Urbain, who never, for instance, let theRogation processions pass singing through the fields without pointingout their descent from something ancient, pagan, devilish. "But if you have cast out the devil, dear Curé, what does it matter?"said Urbain. "The beauty alone is left. And all true beauty is good bynature; and what is not beautiful is not good. You want nothing more, itseems to me. " "Ah, your philosophies!" sighed the old man. However, in different ways, the vintage attracted everybody. MonsieurJoseph and Henriette were there, very busy among the vines; these peoplewould help them another day. A party strolled across from Lancilly;Monsieur and Madame de Sainfoy, idly admiring the pretty scene; CaptainGeorges, casting superior glances, Sophie and Lucie hanging on theirsplendid brother's looks and words. They were allowed to walk with him, and were very happy, Mademoiselle Moineau having been left behind incharge of Hélène. The La Marinière vineyards were not considered safeground for that young culprit. She had to be contented with a distantview, and could see from her window the white horses crawling up anddown the steep hill. Some patronising notice was bestowed by the people from the château onMartin Joubard, who moved slowly about among the old neighbours, a heroto them all, whatever their political opinions might be. For, after all, he went to the wars against his will; and when there he had done hisduty; and his enthusiasm for the Emperor was a new spirit in thatcountry, which roused curiosity, if nothing more. No one could fail torejoice with old Joubard and his wife. Whatever they themselves thought, and hardly dared to say, was said for them by their neighbours. Fewindeed had come back, of the conscript lads of Anjou. How much better, people said, to have Martin maimed than not at all. What was a woodenleg? a very useful appendage, on which Martin might limp actively aboutthe farms; and the loss of an arm did not matter so much, for, by hisfather's account, he could do everything but hold and fire a gun withthe one left to him. His mother had dressed him in clean countryclothes, laying aside his tattered old uniform in a chest, for he wouldnot have it destroyed. All the girls in the two villages were runningafter Martin, who had always been popular; all the men wanted to hearhis tales of the war. He was certainly the hero of Monsieur Urbain'svintage, the centre figure of that sunny day. Angelot felt himself drawn to the soldier, whose return home had touchedhim with so strange a thrill. There was a spark of the heroic in thisyoung fellow. Angelot found himself watching him, listening to him, perhaps as a kind of refuge from the cold looks of his relations; foreven Riette dared not run after him as of old. When purple shadows began to lie long in the yellow evening glow, andthe crickets sang louder than ever, and sweet scents came out of thewarm ground--when the day's work was nearly done, Angelot walked awaywith Martin from the vineyard. He wanted some of those stirring storiesto himself, it seemed. If one must go away and fight, if the old Angevinlife became once for all impossible, then might it not be better underthe eagles, as his wise father thought, than with that army and on thatside for which, in spite of his mother and his uncle, he could not rousein himself any enthusiasm? True, he liked little he knew of the Empireand its men, except this poor lamed conscript; but always in hiswhirling thoughts there was that will-o'-the-wisp, that wavering starof hope that Hélène's father had seemed to offer him. Could he forsake, for any other reason, the sight of the forbidden walls that held her! He and Martin went away up the lane together, and climbed along the sideof the moor towards La Joubardière, Martin telling wild stories ofbattles and sieges, of long marching and privation, Angelot listeningfascinated, as he helped the crippled soldier over the rough ground. Martin had been wounded under Suchet at the siege of Tortosa, so that hehad seen little of the more recent events of the war, but his personaladventures, before and since, had been exciting; and not the leastwonderful part of the story was his wandering life, a wounded beggar onhis way back across the Pyrenees into his own country. As Angelotlistened, the politics of French parties faded away, and he onlyrealised that this was a Frenchman, fighting the enemies of France andgiving his young life for her without a word of regret. Napoleon mighthave conquered the world, it seemed, with such conscript soldiers asthis. These, not men like Ratoneau or Georges de Sainfoy, were theheroes of the war. The sun had set, and swift darkness was coming down, before the youngmen reached La Joubardière. The lane, the same in which the twocarriages had met, ran in a hollow between high banks studded with oakslike gigantic toadstools, adding to the deepness of the shadow. "There are people following us, " said Angelot. He interrupted Martin in the midst of one of his stories; the soldierwas standing still, leaning on his stick, and laughed with a touch ofannoyance, for he was growing vain of his skill as a story-teller. "My father and mother, " he said. "And here I am forgetting their soup, which I promised to have ready. " "It is not--I know Maître Joubard's step, " said Angelot. "Some of the vintagers--" Martin was beginning, when he and Angelot weresurrounded suddenly in the dusk by several men, two of whom seizedAngelot by the shoulders. "I arrest you, in the Emperor's name, " said a third man. Angelot struggled to free himself, and Martin lifted his stickthreateningly. "What is this, rascals? Do you know what you are saying? This is the sonof Monsieur de la Marinière. " "It is some mistake. You have no business to arrest me. You will answerfor this, police! You will answer it to Monsieur le Préfet. He is ill, and cannot have given the order. Show me your authority. " "Never mind our authority, " said the chief. "We don't want Monsieur dela Marinière, but we do want his son. Are you coming quietly, younggentleman, or must we put on handcuffs? Get out of the way with yourstick, you one-legged fellow, or I shall have to punish you. " "Keep back, Martin; you can do nothing. Go and tell my father, " saidAngelot. He shook off the men's hands, and stood still and upright inthe midst of them. "Why do you arrest me?" he said. "Where are you going to take me?" "Ah, that you will see, " said the police officer. The snarling malice in his voice seemed suddenly familiar to Angelot. "Why, I know you--you are--" "Never mind who I am. It is my business to keep down Chouans. " "But I am not a Chouan!" "A man is known by his company. Now then--quick march--away!" "Adieu, Martin! This is all nonsense--I shall soon come back, " Angelotcried, as they hustled him on. A few moments, and the very tramp of their feet was lost in the dusk, for they had dragged their prisoner out of the lane and were crossingthe open moor. Martin, in much tribulation, made the best of his wayback to meet his father and mother, and with them carried the news to LaMarinière. Half an hour later, Monsieur Urbain, whistling gaily, came back from apleasant stroll home with his Sainfoy cousins. Everything seemedsatisfactory; Adélaïde had been kind, the vintage was splendid. If onlyAngelot were a sensible boy, there would be nothing left to wish for. The moon was up, flooding the old yards that were now empty and still. As he came near, he saw Anne waiting for him in the porch, and supposedthat the moonlight made her so strangely pale. "My dearest, " he said, as he came up, "there is to be a ball this monthat Lancilly, in honour of Georges. But I do not know whether thatfoolish son of yours will be invited. " Anne looked him in the face; no, it was not the moonlight that made herso pale. "They have arrested Ange as a Chouan, " she said. CHAPTER XX HOW ANGELOT CLIMBED A TREE The police had caught Angelot; but they did not keep him long. They had to do with a young man who knew every yard of that wild countryfar better than they did, and was almost as much a part of it as thebirds and beasts that haunted it. "Where are you taking me?" he said, as they walked across the highexpanse of the _landes_, dimly lighted by the last glimmer of day. "Thisis a very roundabout way to Sonnay-le-Loir. " "It is not the way at all, " said the officer who took the lead, "and weknow that as well as you. " "But I demand to be taken to Sonnay, " Angelot said, and stopped. "Thewarrant for my arrest, if you have such a thing, must be from thePrefect. Take me to him, and I will soon convince him that there is somemistake. " "Monsieur le Préfet is ill, as you know. Walk on, if you please. " "Then take me to the sous-Préfet, or whoever is in his place. " "You are going to a higher authority, monsieur, not a lower one. " "What do you mean by that?" "You are going to Paris. Monsieur le Comte Réal, the head of our branchof the police, will decide what is to be done with you. " "Mon Dieu! The old Jacobin! He nearly had my uncle in his fangs once, "said Angelot, half to himself. "But what do they accuse me of?Chouannerie? But I am not a Chouan, and you know enough of our affairsto know that, Monsieur Simon!" The Chouan-catcher laughed sourly. "I believe this is some private devilry, " the prisoner went on, withcareless daring. "The Prefect has nothing to do with it. It is spiteagainst my uncle--but you are a little afraid of touching him. Don'timagine, though, that you will annoy him particularly by carrying meoff. We are not on good terms just now, my uncle and I. In truth, I haveoffended all my relations, and nobody will be sorry to have me away fora time. " "Tant mieux, monsieur!" said Simon. "Then you won't object to giving theMinister of Police a little information about your uncle and the otherChouan gentlemen, his friends. " "Ah! that is quite another story! That is the idea, is it? Monsieur leDuc de Rovigo, and Monsieur le Comte Réal, flatter themselves that theyhave got hold of a traitor?" "Pardon, monsieur! It is the Chouans who are traitors. " "I think I could find a few others in our poor France this very night. But I am not one of them. Again, whose authority have you for arrestingme? Is it Monsieur Réal who has stretched his long arm so far?" "The authority is sufficient, and you are my prisoner, " Simon answeredcoolly. "I suspect you have no authority but your own!" "They will enlighten you in Paris, possibly. " "Come, tell me, how much are they paying you for this little trick?" One of the other men laughed suddenly, and Simon became angry. "Hold your tongue, prisoner, or I shall have you gagged. You need notspeak again till the authorities in Paris take means to make you. Yes, Iassure you, they can persuade rather strongly when they like. Now, quickmarch--we have a post-chaise waiting in the road over there. " Angelot saw that his wisest course was to say no more. He was unarmed;they had taken away the knife he had used for cutting grapes; hisfaithful fowling-piece was hanging in the hall at La Marinière. He wasguarded by five men, all armed, all taller and bigger than himself. Hewalked along in silence, apparently resigned to his fate, but thinkinghard all the while. His thoughts, busy and curious as they were, did not hit on the rightorigin of his very disagreeable adventure. Knowing a good deal of Simonby repute, and a little by experience, and having heard legends of suchpolice exploits in the West within the last ten years, though not sinceMonsieur de Mauves took office, he felt almost sure that the spy wastaking advantage of the Prefect's illness to gain a little money andcredit on his own account. And of course his own arrest, a young andunimportant man, was more easily managed and less likely to haveconsequences than that of his uncle, for instance, or Monsieur desBarres. He did not believe that the Paris authorities knew anything ofit, yet; but he did believe that Simon knew what he was doing; thatRéal, the well-known head of the police in the western _arrondissement_, trained under Fouché in suspicion, cunning and mercilessness, would makeunscrupulous use of any means of knowing the present state of Royalistopinion in Anjou. He would be all the more severe, probably, because themildness of the Prefect of the Loir had more than once irritated him. SoAngelot thought he saw that Simon might easily drag his chosen victiminto a dangerous place, from which it would be hard to escape withhonour. They reached the north-east edge of the moor just as the moon wasrising. At first the low light made all things strangely confused, marching armies of shadows over the wild ground. Every bush might hidea man, and the ranks of low oaks stood like giants guarding the hollowblack paths that wound between them. Les Chouettes, the only habitationnear, lay a mile away below the vineyards. The high-road to Paris mightbe reached by one of the narrow roads that crossed the heath not faraway. When they came to the edge of the open ground, near a grove of oaksplunged in bracken, with a few crumbling walls beyond it where a farmhad once stood, Simon halted his party and whistled. He seemed to expecta reply, but got none. After waiting a few minutes, whistling again, exclaiming impatiently, he beckoned one of the other men and they walkedaway together towards the road. "Something wrong with the chaise?" said Angelot to the three who wereleft. "What will you do if it is not there? You will have to carry me toParis, for I promise you I don't mean to walk. " "Monsieur will not be very heavy, " one of the men answered, good-humouredly; the same who had laughed before. "Lift me then, and see!" said Angelot. "All right, my good fellow, I'llride on your shoulders. Voyons! you can carry me down the road. " They were standing in a patch of moonlight, just outside the shadow ofthe oaks. The two other men stepped back for an instant, while theircomrade stooped, laughing, to lift Angelot. He was met by alightning-like blow worthy of an English training, and tumbled overinto the bracken. One of the two others fell flat in the oppositedirection, and the prisoner vanished into the shadows of the grove. Thethird man dashed after him, but came into violent contact, in thedarkness, with the trunk of a tree, and fell down stunned at the foot ofit. By this time the chaise had slowly climbed the hill from a village inthe further valley, where the post-boy had been refreshing himself andhis horses. Simon stopped to scold him, then left his companion to keepguard over him, and himself mounted again the precipitous bit of stonylane which had once been the approach to the farm, and now opened on thewild moor. He whistled shrilly as he came, and then called in a subduedvoice: "All right, men! Bring him down. " There was no answer. He quickened his pace, and coming up under the oaksfound the two fellows sitting on the ground rubbing their heads, staringvacantly round with eyes before which all the moonshiny world wasswimming. Simon swore at them furiously. "What has happened, you fools? Where'sAlexandre? Where is the prisoner? name of all that's--" "Devil knows, I don't, " said the fellow who had paid dear for hisgood-humour. "That little gentleman is cleverer than you or me, MasterSimon, and stronger too. He knocked us down like ninepins. Where is he?Nearly back at La Marinière, I should think, and with Alexandre chasingafter him!" "Not so far off as that, I suspect, " said Simon. "Up with you. He ishidden in this cover, and you have got to beat it till you find him. Howdid you come to let him escape, pair of idiots? You are not fit for yourwork. " He went back a few yards, while the men scrambled to their feet, andwhistled sharply for the one he had left in charge of the post-boy. Thenhe lighted a lantern, and they pushed at various points into the wood. The first discovery was that of Alexandre, lying senseless; they draggedhim into the road and left him there to come to himself. Then theyunearthed a wild boar, which rushed out furiously from the depths of thebracken and charged at the light, then bolted off across the moor. Smaller animals fled from them in all directions; large birds rustledand cried, disturbed in the thick foliage of the oaks, impenetrablemasses of shade. "If we were to shoot into the trees? He may be hidden in one of them. " The suggestion came from Angelot's friend, whose frivolity had given himhis chance, and whose anxiety to put himself on the right side bycatching him again, dead or alive, very nearly brought his young life toa speedy end. For foolish François was wise this time, so wise, had heonly known it, that Angelot was sitting in the very tree he touchedwith his hand as he spoke, a couple of yards above his head. The boy had courage enough and to spare; but his heart seemed to stop atthat moment, and he felt himself turning white in the darkness. The mencould hardly shoot into the trees without hitting him, though he hadslipped down as far as he could into the hollow trunk. He would behorribly wounded, if not killed. It was a hard fate, to be shot as apoacher might shoot a pheasant roosting on a bough. An unsportsmanlikesort of death, Uncle Joseph would say. He held his breath. Should heawait it, or give himself back to the police by jumping down amongstthem? The moment of danger passed. Angelot smiled as the men moved on, and hidhimself a little more completely. "No, " Simon said. "No shooting till you are obliged. His uncle livesonly a mile off, and he will come out if he hears a gun. " "So he would, the blessed little man!" muttered Angelot. The men went on searching the wood, but with such stealthy movements, solittle noise, even so little perseverance, as it seemed to him, that hewas confirmed in his idea of Simon's sole responsibility. These men werepolice, supposed to be all-powerful; but somehow they did not act ortalk as if Savary and the Emperor, or even Réal, were behind them. Angelot watched the light as it glimmered here and there, and listenedto the rustling in the bracken. Presently, when they were far off on theother side of the little grove, he climbed out of the trunk and slippeddown from his tree. Simon might change his mind about shooting; in anycase it seemed safer to change one's position. Being close to the edgeof the _landes_, Angelot's first thought was to take to his heels andrun; then again that seemed risky, and a shot in the back wasundesirable. He dived in among the bracken, which was taller thanhimself, and grew thick on the ground like a small forest. Halfcrawling, half walking, stopping dead still to watch the wanderinggleams of light and to hear the steps and voices of the men, thenpushing gently on again, Angelot reached a hiding-place on the otherside of the grove. Here the bracken, taller and thicker than ever, grewagainst and partly over the ruined walls of the old farm. In the verymiddle of it, where the wall made a sudden turn, there was a hollow, half sheltered by stones, and a black yawning hole below, the old wellof the homestead. All the top of it was in ruins; a fox had made itshole halfway down; there was still water at the bottom of the well. Here, plunged in the darkness, Angelot sat on the edge of the well andwaited. There were odd little sounds about him, the squeaking of younganimals, the sleepy chirp of easily disturbed birds; a frog dived with asplash into the well, and then in a few unearthly croaks told his storyto his mates down there. The bracken smelt warm and dry; it was not abad place to spend a summer night in, for any one who knew wild natureand loved it. All was so still that Angelot, after listening intently for a time, leaned his head against the white stones, fell asleep, and dreamed ofHélène. If he had carried her off that night, mad fellow as he was, somesuch shelter might have been all he had to offer her. He woke with a start, and saw by the light that he must have been asleepat least two hours, for the moon was high in the sky. He got upcautiously, and crept through the bracken to the edge of the grovetowards Les Chouettes. It was fortunate that he took the precaution to move noiselessly, as ifhe were stalking game, for he had hardly reached the edge of the woodwhen he saw Simon standing in the moonlight. Evidently he had beensitting or lying on the bank and had just risen to his feet, for one ofhis comrades lay there still. "He is hidden here. He must be here, " said Simon, in a low, decidedvoice. "I will not go away without him. Hungry and thirsty--yes, I daresay you are. You deserve it, for letting him escape. " "I tell you, he is not here, " said the other man. "We have been allround this bit of country; all through it. And look at the moonlight. Amouse couldn't get away without our seeing it. What's that? a rabbit?" "I shall walk round again, " said Simon. "Those other fellows may beasleep, if they are as drowsy and discontented as you. Look sharp now, while I am away. " Simon tramped down the lane. The other police officer stretched himselfand stared after him. "I'll eat my cap, " he muttered, "if the young gentleman's in the woodstill. He deserves to be caught, if he is. " At that moment Angelot was standing under an oak two yards away. In thebroad, deep shadow he was invisible. A longing seized him to knock theman's cap off his head and tell him to keep his word and eat it. ButSimon was too near, and it was madness to risk the chase that mustfollow. Angelot laughed to himself as he slipped from that shadow to thenext, the officer yawning desperately the while. There was something unearthly about Les Chouettes in the moonlight. Itseemed to float like a fairy dwelling, with its slim tower and highwindows, on a snowy ocean of sand. The woods, dark guarding phalanxes oftall oaks and firs, seemed marshalled on the slopes for its defence. Angelot came down upon it by the old steep lane, having slipped acrossfrom the ruined farm to a vineyard, along by a tall hedge into anotherwood of low scrub and bracken, then into the road a hundred yards abovethe house. Before he reached it he heard the horses kicking in thestable, then a low bark from the nearest dog which he answered by softlywhistling a familiar tune. In consequence of this all the dogs about the place came running to meethim, softly patting over the sand, and it was on this group, standingunder her window in the midnight stillness, that Riette looked out a fewminutes later. Something woke her, she did not know what, but this little watcher'ssleep was always of the lightest, and she had not long fallen asleep, her eyelashes still wet with tears for Angelot. The window creaked asshe opened it, leaning out into the moonlight. "Is it you, my Ange? But they said--" "I have escaped, " said Angelot. "Quick, let me in! They may be followingme. " "But go round to papa's window, dearest! And what business have the dogsthere? Ah--do you hear, you wicked things? Go back to your places. " The dogs looked up, dropped their ears and tails, slunk away each to hiscorner. Only the dog who guarded Riette's end of the house remained; hestretched himself on the sand, slapped it with his tail, lolled out histongue as if laughing. "Don't you think my uncle will shoot me before he looks at me, if Iattack his window?" said Angelot. "And in any case, I dare hardly askhim to take me in. He has not forgiven me. But you could hide me, Riette! or at least you could give me something to eat before I take tothe woods again. " "My boy!" the odd little figure in the flannel gown leaned farther out, and the dark cropped head was turned one way and the other, listening. "Go round into the north wood and wait as near papa's window as you can. I will go down to him. I think he cannot be asleep; he must be thinkingof you. " "Merci!" said Angelot, and walked away. But he did not go into the wood. He stole round very gently to where, inspite of the moon, he saw a light shining in Monsieur Joseph'suncurtained window. The guardian dog rubbed himself against his legs ashe stood there. Monsieur Joseph's room was panelled and furnished with the plainestwood. His bed was in the alcove at the back; the only ornament was theportrait of his wife, a dark, Italian-looking woman, which hungsurrounded by guns, pistols, and swords, over the low stone mantelpiece. It was just midnight, but Monsieur Joseph was not in bed. He looked aquaint figure, in a dressing-gown and a tasselled night-cap, and he satat the table writing a long letter. He started when Riette touched thedoor, and Angelot saw that his hand moved mechanically towards a pair ofpistols that lay beside him. Monsieur Joseph did not trust entirely tohis dogs for defence. In she came, with bare white feet stepping lightly over the polishedfloor. Angelot moved back a pace or two that he might not hear what theysaid to each other. When Monsieur Joseph hastily opened the window, Riette had been sent back summarily to her room, and Angelot was waitinghalfway to the wood. "Come in, Ange! why do you stand there?" the little uncle exclaimedunder his breath. "Sapristi, how do you know that you are not watched?" "I think not, Uncle Joseph. And I fancy the fellows who caught me willhardly follow me here, " said Angelot, stepping into the room. "You willforgive me for coming?" "Where could you go? Come, come, tell me everything. Why--what did thosedevils of police want with you? Shut the window and draw thecurtain--there, now we are safe. I was just writing to César d'Ombré. Doyou know--here is a secret--he means to get away to England, and fromthere to the Princes. He is right; there is not much to be done here. You shall go with him!" "Shall I?" said Angelot, vaguely. "Well, Uncle Joseph--it does not muchmatter where I go. " Joseph de la Marinière swore his biggest oath. "What are you staying here for?" he said. "To be caught on one side by ayoung lady, on the other by the police!" "Give me something to eat, Uncle Joseph, or I shall die of hungerbetween you all, " said Angelot, smiling at him. The little gentleman shook his head. Angelot was not forgiven, not atall; even Riette had hardly been restored to favour, to ordinary mealsin polite society. "I will give you something to eat if I can find anything without callingGigot, " he said. "Riette thinks there is a pie in the pantry. Come intothe gun-room; the light will not be seen there. And tell me what youhave done to get yourself arrested, troublesome fellow! Not even a realhonest bit of _Chouannerie_, I am afraid. " CHAPTER XXI HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH FOUND HIMSELF MASTER OF THE SITUATION In the old labyrinth of rooms at Les Chouettes, Monsieur Joseph'sgun-room was the best hidden from the outside. It had solid shutters, always kept closed and barred; the daylight only made its way in throughtheir chinks, or through the doors, one of which opened into MonsieurJoseph's bedroom, the other into a little anteroom between that and thehall. Both doors were generally locked, and the keys safely stowed away. The gun-room was not meant for ordinary visitors; Angelot himself, as arule, was the only person admitted there. For the amount of arms andammunition kept there, some of it in cupboards cleverly hidden in thepanelling, some in a dry cellar entered by a trap-door in the floor, wasvery different, both in kind and quality, from anything the mostenergetic sportsman could require. In this storehouse the amiable conspirator shut up his nephew, andAngelot spent the next few days there, well employed in cleaning andpolishing wood and steel. He slept at night on a sofa in the anteroom, but was allowed to go no farther. Monsieur Joseph had reasons of hisown. He was a very authoritative person, when once he took a matter into hisown hands, and his influence with Angelot was great. He took a far moreserious view of the arrest than Angelot himself did. He was sure thathis nephew had been kidnapped by special orders from Paris--probablyfrom Réal, whom he knew of old--in order to gain information as to anyexisting Chouan plots in Anjou. Thus the authorities meant to protectthemselves from any consequences of the Prefect's indulgent character. It was even possible that some suspicion of the mission to England, onlylately discussed by himself and his friends, might have filtered throughto Paris; and in that case several persons were in serious danger. Monsieur Joseph was confirmed in these ideas by the fact that hisbrother started off to Sonnay to demand of the authorities there thereason of his son's arrest, and found that absolutely nothing was knownof it. Coming back in a state of rage and anxiety, which quite drove hisphilosophy out of the field, Urbain attacked his brother in words thatJoseph found a little hard to bear, accusing him of having ruinedAngelot's life with his foolish fancies, and of being the actual causeof this catastrophe which might bring the fate of a Chouan on theinnocent fellow who cared for no politics at all. "And what a life, to care for no cause at all!" cried Joseph, witheloquently waving hands. "But--you say you are going to Paris, to get tothe bottom of this? Well, my friend, go! And I promise you, if Ange isin danger, I will follow and take his place. You and Anne may rely uponit, he shall not be punished for my sins. " "Come with me now, then! I start this very night, " said Urbain. "No, no! I will not accuse myself before it is necessary, " said Joseph, shaking his head and smiling. Urbain flung away in angry disgust. Joseph had a moment of profoundsadness as he looked after him--they were standing in the courtyard ofLa Marinière--then stole away home through the lanes, carefully avoidinga sight of his sister-in-law. "I let him go! I let him go, poor Urbain! and his boy safe at LesChouettes all the time. Why do I do it? because the house is watched dayand night; because neither I, nor Gigot, nor Tobie, can go into thewoods without seeing the glitter of a police carbine through the leaves;because the dogs growl at night, and there is no safe place for Angelotoutside Les Chouettes, till he is out of France altogether--and that Ishall have to manage carefully. Because, if his father knew he hadescaped from the police, all the world would know. Et puis, --I shallmake a good Royalist of you in the end, my little Angelot. Your motherwill not blame me for cutting you off from the Empire, and your fathermust comfort himself with his philosophy. And that hopeless passion forMademoiselle Hélène--what can be kinder than to end it--and by the greatcure of all--time, absence, impossibility! Yes; the matter is in myhands, and I shall carry it through, God helping me. " It was not a light burden that he had to carry, the little uncle. Never, since his brother's intervention brought him back to France and placedhim where he and his old friends could amuse themselves withconspiracies which, as Joubard said, did little harm to any one, had hebeen in a position of such real difficulty. Riette did not at allrealise what she was bringing upon her father, when she slipped into hisroom that night with the news that Angelot had escaped from the police. He had to keep his nephew quietly imprisoned till he could get him awaysafely; it required all his arguments, all his influence and strength ofwill, to do that; for Angelot was not an easy person to keep within fournarrow walls, and only love and gratitude restrained him from obeyinghis own instincts, going out into the woods, risking a secondarrest--hardly to be followed by a second escape--venturing over to LaMarinière to see his mother. It distressed him far more to think of her, terribly anxious, ignorant of his safety, than of his father on the wayto Paris. He, at any rate, though he would not find him, might come tothe bottom of the mysterious business. Monsieur Joseph danced in the air, shrugged his shoulders, waved hishands. If Angelot chose to go, let him! His recapture would probablymean the arrest and ruin of the whole family. A little patience, and hecould disappear for the time. What else did he expect to be able to do?Would a man on whom the police had once laid their hands be allowed torescue himself and to live peaceably in his own country? What did hetake them for, the police? were they children at play? or were theirproceedings grim and real earnest? Had those men behind, who pulled thestrings of the puppet-show, no other object in view than an hour'samusement? Did Angelot know that the woods were patrolled by the police, the roads watched? The only surprising thing was, that no domiciliaryvisit had yet been made, either at Les Chouettes or La Marinière. "However, they know I am a good marksman, " said Monsieur Joseph, withhis sweetest smile. "And even Tobie, with my authority, might think agendarme fair game. " "I don't believe it is fear of you that keeps them away, Uncle Joseph, "said Angelot. "As to that, I too can hit a tree by daylight. But thesestealthy ways of theirs seem to tell me what I have thought all along, that it is a private enterprise of our friend Simon's own, without anyauthority whatever. The fellows with him were not gendarmes; they werenot in uniform. Monsieur le Préfet being laid up, the good man thinks itthe moment to do a little hunting on his own account with his own dogs, and to curry favour by taking his game to Paris. But he is not quitesure of himself; he has no warrant to search houses without a betterreason than any he can give. He will catch me again if he can, no doubt;but as you say, Uncle Joseph, as long as I stay here in your cupboard, Iam safe. " "So safe, " laughed his uncle, "that I am going to begin my vintageto-morrow under their very noses, leaving Riette and the dogs to guardyou, mon petit. But you are wrong, you are quite wrong. No police spywould dare to make such an arrest without a special order. If they haveno warrant for searching, they will soon get one as soon as they aresure you are here. But at present you have vanished into the bowels ofthe earth. They can see that your father knows nothing of you; they haveno reason to think that I am any wiser. " So passed those weary days, those long, mysterious nights at LesChouettes. Outside, with great care to keep themselves out of sight, Simon'sscratch band searched the woods and lanes. Simon was mystified, as wellas furious. He hardly dared return and report to his employer, whosupposed that Angelot had been conveyed safely off to the mock prisonwhere he meant to have him kept for a few weeks; then, when the affairof the marriage was arranged, to let him escape from it. Simon washimself too well known in the neighbourhood to make any enquiries; butone of his men found out at Lancilly that the family supposed young Angeto have been carried off to Paris, whither his father had followed him. Martin Joubard, the only witness of the arrest, had made the most of hisstory. He did not know the police officer by sight, but Monsieur Angehad seemed to do so. This had made them all think that the order for thearrest had come from Sonnay. But no! And as to any escape, this man wasassured that the young gentleman had not been seen by any one but MartinJoubard, since he left his father's vineyard in the twilight of thatfatal evening. At Les Chouettes all went on outwardly in its usual fashion. MonsieurJoseph strolled out with his gun, directed the beginnings of hisvintage; his servants, trustworthy indeed, showed no sign of any specialwatchfulness; Mademoiselle Henriette ordered the dogs about and sang hersongs as usual. If Monsieur Joseph was grave and preoccupied, no wonder;every one knew he loved his nephew. But Simon, in truth, had met hismatch. He was almost convinced that no fugitive from justice, real orpretended, was hidden in or about Monsieur Joseph's habitation; and hegradually made his cordon wider, still watching the house, but keepinghis men in cover by day, and searching the woods by night with lessexact caution. His only satisfaction was being aware of two visits paidto Les Chouettes by the Baron d'Ombré, who came over the moor in theevening and slept there. The mission to England was as yet beyond policedreams, at least on this side of the country; but Simon kept hisknowledge for future use. It might naturally be imagined that Angelot would have found a refuge insome of the wild old precincts of La Marinière; but Simon soon convincedhimself that this was not the case. No mother whose son was hidden abouther home would have spent her time as Anne did, wandering restlesslyabout, expecting nothing but her husband's return, or spending longhours before the altar in the church, praying for her son's safety. Simon began to suspect that his prisoner had got away to the west, intoBrittany, among the Chouans who were there so numerous that it wasbetter to leave them alone. "Bien! his absence in any way will suit Monsieur le Général, " Simonreflected. "As to that, it does not much matter. But I and my fellowswill not get our promised pay, and that signifies a great deal. I, whohave given up my furlough to serve that animal!" So he gnawed his nails in distraction, and still watched with a sort offascination the little square of country where he felt more and moreafraid that Master Angelot was no longer to be found. The sympathy that Anne de la Marinière, in her lonely sorrow, mighthave expected from the cousins at Lancilly who owed Urbain so much, sheneither asked nor found. Once or twice, Hervé de Sainfoy came himself tothe manor to ask if she had any news; but his manner was a little stiffand awkward; and Adélaïde never came; and the messages he brought fromher were too evidently made by his politeness on the spur of the moment. Was it not possible, Anne thought, to be too worldly, too unforgiving?Had not her beautiful boy been punished enough for his presumption infalling in love with their daughter, and behaving like a lover of theolden time? They were even partly responsible for the arrest, shethought, for it was to escape them that Ange had walked away with Martinup the hill that evening. Looking over at the great castle on the opposite hill, she accused itbitterly of having robbed her not only of Urbain, but of Angelot. The October days brought wilder autumn weather; the winds began to blowin the woods, to howl at night in the wide old chimneys of La Marinière;sometimes the cry of a wolf, in distant depths of forest, made sportsmenand farmers talk of the hunts of which Lancilly used long ago to be thecentre. Those days would return again, they hoped, though Count Hervéhad not the energy or the country training of his ancestors. But hisson, when the war was over, seemed likely to vie with any seigneur ofthem all. In the meanwhile, this young man's leave was shortened by anexpress from the army--a fact which seemed at first unlikely to have anyinfluence on the fate of his cousin Angelot--but life has turns andtwists that baffle the wisest calculations. Neither Georges nor hismother had been displeased at the arrest of Angelot; though they had thedecency to keep their congratulations for each other. As for Hélène, thenews had been allowed to reach her through the servants and MademoiselleMoineau. She dared not cry any more; her mother had scolded her enoughfor spoiling her eyes and complexion. Pale and silent, she took this newtrouble as one more proof that she was never meant to be happy. Herfairy prince was a dream; yet, whatever the poets may say, she found alittle joy and comfort, warmth and peace, in dreaming her dream again, and even in this worst time, by some strange instinct of love, Angelotseemed never far away from her. One evening, when it was blowing and raining outside, a wood fire wasflaming in the salon at La Marinière. For herself, Anne would not havecared for it; but the old Curé sat and warmed his hands after diningwith her and playing a game of tric-trac. Not indeed to please anddistract her, but himself; for he had long been accustomed to depend onher for comfort in all his troubles. After the game was over he had toldher a piece of news; nothing that mattered very much, or that was verysurprising, characters and circumstances considered; but Anne took ithardly. "I cannot believe it, " she said at first. "Who told you, do you say?" "My brother at Lancilly told me, " said the Curé. "You do not think himworthy of much confidence, madame--and it may not be true--he had heardthe report in the village. " She shrugged her shoulders, with a little contempt for the Curé ofLancilly. Her old friend watched her face, pathetically changed sinceall this new sorrow came upon her; thinner, paler, its delicate beautyhardened, purple shadows under the still lovely eyes, and a look ofbitter resentment that hurt him to see. He gazed at her imploringly. "But, madame, " he murmured--"it is nothing--Monsieur de la Marinièrewould say it was nothing--" "I hope, Monsieur le Curé, " Anne said, "that after such cruel hardnessof heart he will waste his affection there no longer. Ah! who is that?" There were quick steps outside. Somebody had come in, and might be heardshaking himself in the hall; then Monsieur Joseph walked lightly intothe room, bringing a rush of outside air, a smell of wet leaves, andthat atmosphere of life which in his saddest moments never left him. Madame Urbain received him a little coldly; she was cold to every one inthese days; but in truth his conscience told him that he might havevisited her more since Urbain went away. But then--how keep the secretfrom Angelot's mother? No, impossible; and so he made his vintage anexcuse for avoiding La Marinière. To-night, however, he had a mission tofulfil. It was horribly difficult. He sat down between her and the Curé, lookedfrom one to the other, drank the coffee she offered him, and blushedlike a girl as he said, "No news from Urbain, I suppose?" Anne's brows rose in a scornful arch; her lips pouted. "News! How should there be any?" she said, as if Urbain had gone toParis to amuse himself. "And your vintage, Joseph?" "I finished it to-day. It was difficult--the weather was not verygood--and--I have had distractions, " said Monsieur Joseph, and wavedaway the subject. "My dear Anne, " he went on, rushing headlong intoanother, "I have had a visitor to-day, who charged me to explain to youa certain matter--which vexes him profoundly, by the bye, --Hervé deSainfoy, who for family reasons--" "Oh, mon Dieu!" Anne cried, and burst out laughing. "You really meanthat Hervé de Sainfoy has sent you as his ambassador--see our injustice, Monsieur le Curé, yours and mine--to announce to me that he is going togive a ball while my son is in prison, in danger of his life, oralready dead, for all I know! Really, that is magnificent! Whatpoliteness, what feeling for Urbain, n'est-ce pas? He did not wish me tohear such interesting news through the gossip of the village--do youhear, Monsieur le Curé? You brought it too soon. And my invitation?" sheheld out her hand. "Did he give you a card for me, or will Madame laComtesse take the trouble to send it herself?" "Ah, bah!" cried Joseph, springing from his chair and pirouetting beforethe fire; "but you are a little too severe on poor Hervé, my dearsister! I assure you, I showed him what I thought. But I perceived thathis vexation is real--real and sincere. The circumstances--he explainedthem all in the most amiable manner--" Anne interrupted him, laughing again. "I see the facts--the onefact--what are the circumstances to me?" "They are a great deal to Hervé, " Monsieur Joseph persisted. "Hervé, Hervé!" she cried. "But Joseph--mon Dieu, how can you take hiswretched excuses! I thought you loved Ange! I thought the boy--" She broke off with a sob, turning white as death. The two men stared ather, Monsieur Joseph with wild eyes and trembling lips. Would this bemore than he could bear? He took refuge in talking. He talked so fast that he hardly knew what hewas saying. He poured out Hervé's explanations, his regrets, histrouble of mind. Georges was bent upon this ball; it had been proposedlong before his return; the first invitations had been sent out directlyhe came. He wished to make acquaintance with all the neighbours, old andnew, official, or friends of the family; he wished to pay a specialcompliment to the officers at Sonnay, his brothers in arms. A formalinvitation had been sent to General Ratoneau, who had actually acceptedit, to Hervé's great surprise. He had laughed and said that the dogwanted another thrashing. But let him come, if he chose to humblehimself! He might see even more clearly that Hélène was not for him. InAdélaïde's opinion, no private prejudices must have anything to do withthis ball. It was given chiefly as a matter of politics, under imperialcolours; it was for the interest of Georges that his family should thusdefinitely range itself with the Empire. "Poor Hervé said that he had already, more than once, spoilt his wife'scalculations and failed to support her views. She and Georges, whateverprivate feeling might be, thought it impossible to put off this ballbecause of the misfortune that happened to Angelot. They would beunderstood to show sympathy with the Chouans. Then he abused me well, poor Hervé, " said Monsieur Joseph, amiably. "He said, as Urbain did, that I had ruined Angelot's life, and it was no one's fault but mine. 'Well, dear cousin, ' I said to him, 'I will punish myself by notappearing at this fine ball of yours. Not that my dancing days are over, but for me, Ange's absence would spoil all. ' 'You love that fellow!'says Hervé, looking at me. 'Love him!' says I. 'I would cut off my righthand to serve him, and that is a good deal for a sportsman. ' Hervélaughed as I said it. I do not dislike that poor Hervé, though his wiferules him. Listen to me, you two. I believe if Ange had been reasonableand honest, Hervé might have given him his daughter. " "Heaven forbid!" cried Anne. "But if you love Ange, do not blame him. Hewas young, he was mad, the girl was beautiful--and, after all, Joseph, you had something to do with putting that into his head. Ah, we are allto blame! We have all been cruel, blind, selfish. You and I thought ofthe King, Urbain thought of his cousins, they thought of themselves. Weleft my boy to find his own way in a time like this, and your Chouanfriends were as dangerous for him as Hélène de Sainfoy. Ah! and youexcuse yourself with a laugh from dancing on his grave!" She wrung her hands, threw herself back in her chair with a passionatesigh. "Madame, " said the Curé, suddenly;--his dim but watchful eyes had beenfixed on Joseph; "Madame, Monsieur Joseph could tell you, if he would, what has become of Angelot. He is not dead; I doubt if he is even inprison. Ah, monsieur, you do not dissimulate well!" as Joseph made himan eager sign to be silent. But it was too late, for Anne was holding his two hands, and in thelight of her eyes all his secret doings lay open. "Why did I come!" he said to himself, in the intervals of a verydifficult explanation. "There is some magic in those walls of Lancilly, which attracts and ruins us all. If we live through this, thousandthunders, Hervé de Sainfoy may make his own excuses to our dear littleAnne in future!" CHAPTER XXII THE LIGHTED WINDOWS OF LANCILLY There was no way out of it, without telling all. Fortunately Joseph knewthat his secrets were safe with these two, whose hearts were absolutelyRoyalist, though circumstances held them bound to inactivity. PresentlyAnne rose and left the room. "Thank God! that is over, " Joseph said, half to himself. "I must begoing. Monsieur le Curé, I leave her to you. Do not let her be tooanxious. D'Ombré is rough, but a good fellow; he will take care of ourAngelot. " The old Curé was plunged in gloom. Tall and slight in his long blackgarment, he stood under the high chimneypiece, and leaned forwardshivering, to warm his fingers at the blaze. "Ah, monsieur!" he murmured. "Have you thought what you are doing? Canyou expect good to come out of evil? Your brother, who has doneeverything for us all, how are you treating him? If madame does not seeit, I do. You are taking Ange, making him a conspirator and a Chouan. Ifyou save him from one danger, you plunge him into a greater, for if heand Monsieur d'Ombré are caught on this mission, they will certainlypay for it with their lives. You are doing all this without his father'sknowledge--" "Ah, my dear Curé, I know the police better than you do, " MonsieurJoseph said hastily. "These young fellows will not be the first who haveescaped to England; and Ange cannot stay here with their eyes and clawsupon him. Even his father would not wish that. Leave it to me. What isit, Anne? what are you thinking of?" His sister-in-law had come back into the room, wrapped in a cloak, witha hood drawn over her face. "I am going with you to see Ange, " she said. The wind was howling, the rain was pattering outside. But MonsieurJoseph had all the trouble in the world to make her give up this idea. At last, after many arguments and prayers, he persuaded her that shemust not come to Les Chouettes but must absolutely trust Ange to him. Hepromised solemnly that the young man should not start without herknowing it, that, if possible, she should see her boy again. "And if Urbain comes back before they are gone?" she said, lookingwhitely into his face. "I tell you positively, Joseph, I shall notdare--" "My dear friend, owing to Monsieur le Curé's unfortunate second-sight, your son's life is in your hands. If Urbain comes back, tell him all, ifyou will. His presence did not save Ange from being arrested before, itwill not save him from being retaken. My fault, perhaps, as Urbainsaid--all my fault--" He struck his breast as if in church, with hisfine smile. "But then it is my place to save him, and I will do it, ifyou will let me--in my own way. " They were both trembling, and large tears ran down the old Curé's thincheeks. Joseph, still smiling, bent to kiss her hand. He held it for amoment, then looked up with dark imploring eyes. "Adieu, chère Anne! and think of me with all your charity!" he said. A minute later he had slipped noiselessly out, and plunged alone intothe wet, howling darkness. Through those days of suspense, while Angelot was hidden at LesChouettes, while master and servants alike acted on the supposition thatthe house was watched by gendarmes with all the power of the Ministry ofPolice behind them--through these days, one person alone was happy; itwas Henriette. She adored her cousin; it was joy to watch over him, toscold him, to amuse him, to keep him, a difficult matter, within thebounds prescribed by his uncle. Every day Angelot said it wasimpossible; he must be ill, he must die, if he could not stretch hislegs and breathe the open air. Every day Henriette, when her father wasout, allowed him to race up and down the stairs, played at hide-and-seekwith him in the passages, let him dance her round and round the lowerrooms. Or else she played games with him, cards, chess, tric-trac; orhe lay and listened to her while she told him fairy tales; listened witha dreamy half-understanding, with a certainty, underlying all hisimpatience, that there was nothing to live for now. What did it matter, after all? One moment, life and hope and youth made him thrill andtremble in every limb; the next, his fate weighed upon him like amillstone; he laid his head down on the broad pillow of the sofa, andwhile Henriette chattered his eyelashes were sometimes wet. All wassettled now. He must be banished to England, to Germany, banished in acause he did not care for, in which he was involved against his will. Never again should he walk with his gun and Négo, light-hearted, overhis own old country. Never again, more certainly, should he see Hélène, feel the maddening sweetness of her touch, her kiss. There was to be aball. Henriette told him all about it; he heard of his cousin Hervé'svisit, and was half amused, half miserable. Hélène would dance; whiteand slender, her eyes full of sadness. She would dance with other men, thinking, he knew, of her lost friend, her Angelot. In time, one of themwould be presented to her as her husband. Not Ratoneau; Angelot had herfather's word for that, and he drew a long breath when he thought of it. But some one else; that was inevitable. Ah! as life must pass, whycannot it pass more quickly? Why must every day have such an endlessnumber of hours and minutes? What torture is there greater than this ofwaiting, stifled and idle, for a fate arranged in spite of one's self? Henriette flitted in and out, eager and earnest like her father. AfterMonsieur Joseph's visit to La Marinière, he sent her there one day withMarie, and she was embraced by her aunt Anne with a quite new passion oftenderness, and trusted with a letter and a huge parcel of necessariesfor Angelot's journey. Monsieur Joseph laughed a little angrily overthese. "Tiens, mon petit! your mother thinks you are going to drive to thecoast in a chaise and four, " he said; but Angelot bent his head verygravely over the coats and the shirts that those little thin hands hadfolded together for him. "You must give me fair notice, Uncle Joseph, " he said. "Police or nopolice, I do not go without wishing her good-bye. " Everything came at once, as fate would have it. It was after dark, awild, windy evening, stars looking through the hurrying clouds, nomoonrise till early morning. With every precaution, Monsieur Josephnow allowed his nephew to dine in the dining-room, taking care to placehim where he could not be seen from outside when Gigot came in throughthe shutters from the kitchen. Angelot had now been kept in hiding forten days, and the police seemed to have disappeared from the woods, sothat Monsieur Joseph's mind was easier. Suddenly, as they sat at dinner that evening, all the dogs began tobark. "Go into your den!" said the little uncle, starting up. "No, dear uncle, this game pie is too good, " Angelot said coolly. "Iheard a horse coming down the lane. It is Monsieur d'Ombré's messenger. " "If it is--very true, you had better eat your dinner, " said his uncle. And to be sure, in a few minutes, Gigot came in with a letter, Angelot'smarching orders. At five o'clock the next morning César d'Ombré wouldwait for him at the Étang des Morts, a lonely, legend-haunted pool inthe woods where four roads met, about two leagues beyond the _landes_ byway of La Joubardière. "Very well; you will start at three o'clock, " said Monsieur Joseph. "Give the man something to eat and send him back, Gigot, to meet hismaster. " "Three o'clock! I shall be asleep!" said Angelot. "Surely an hour willbe enough to take me to the Étang des Morts--a cheerful rendezvous!" He laughed and looked at Riette. She was very pale and grave, her darkeyes wide open. "The good dead--they will watch over you, mon petit!" she murmured. "Wemust not be afraid of them. " "This is not a time for talking nonsense, children, " said MonsieurJoseph; he looked at them severely, his mouth trembling. "Half-pastthree at latest; the boy might lose his way in the dark. " Riette got up suddenly and flung her arms round Angelot's neck. "Mon petit, mon petit!" she repeated, burying her face on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he cried. "How am I to finish my dinner? You comebetween me and the best pie that Marie ever made! Get along with you, little good-for-nothing!" He laughed; then Marie's pie seemed to choke him; he pushed back hischair, lifted Riette lightly and carried her out of the room. "Now I am in prison no longer, " he said. "I am going to run across to LaMarinière; will you come too, little cousin?" But Monsieur Joseph had something to say to that. He would not letAngelot go without sermons so long that the boy could hardly listen tothem, on the care he was to take that no servant or dog at La Marinièresaw him, on the things he might and might not say to his mother. At last Angelot said aside to Henriette: "There is only one thing Iregret--that I did not go straight home at first to my father andmother. That will bring misfortune on us all, if anything does--my uncleis absolutely too much of a conspirator. " "Hush, you are ungrateful, " said Riette, gravely. "Ah! It seems to me that I am nothing good or fortunate--everything badand unlucky! My relations and their politics toss me like a ball, "Angelot sighed impatiently. "I wish this night were over and we were onour way, I and that excellent grumpy César. And the farther I go, themore I shall want to come back. Tiens! Riette, I am miserable!" The child gazed at him with her great eyes, full of the love andunderstanding of a woman. "Courage!" she said. "You will come back--with the King. " "The King!" Angelot repeated bitterly. "Ask Martin Joubard about that. Hear him talk of the Emperor. " "A peasant! a common soldier! What does he know?" said the girl, scornfully. "I think my papa knows better. " "Ah, well! Believe in him; you are right, " said Angelot. They talked as they stood outside the house in the dim starlight, waiting a few moments for Monsieur Joseph: he chose to go part of theway with Angelot, and consented unwillingly to take Riette with him. Thedead silence of the woods and fields was only broken by the moan of thewind; a sadness that struck to the heart brooded over the depths oflonely land; far down in the valley cold mists were creeping, and evenon the lower slopes of Monsieur Joseph's meadow a chilly damp rose fromthe undrained ground. As far as one could tell, not a human being movedin the woods; the feet of Monsieur d'Ombré's messenger had passed up thelane out of hearing; all was solitary and silent about the quaintturreted house with its many shuttered windows and dark guards lyingsilent, stretched on the sand. Only one of these rose and shook himselfand followed his master. But the loneliness was not so great as it seemed. Behind a large tree toleeward of the house, Simon was lurking alone. He had sent his men awayfor the night, and he ground his teeth with rage when he saw his victim, out of reach for the time. For he had not the courage, with no law orright on his side, to face the uncle and nephew, armed and together. Avoiding the open starlit slope, those three with the dog passed at onceinto the shadow of the woods, thus taking the safest, though not theshortest way to La Marinière. Simon stole after them at a safe distance. They came presently to a high corner in a lane, where, over the bank onwhich the pollard oaks stood in line, they could look across to theother side of the valley. As a rule, the Château de Lancilly was hardlyto be seen after sunset, facing east, and its own woods shadowing it onthree sides; but to-night its long front shone and glowed and flashedwith light; every window seemed to be open and illuminated; the effectwas so festal, so dazzling, that Riette cried out in admiration. Monsieur Joseph exclaimed angrily, and Angelot gazed in silence. "Ah, papa! It is the ball! How beautiful! How I wish I could be there!"cried the child. "No doubt!" said Monsieur Joseph. "Exactly! You would like to dance tillto-morrow morning, while Ange is escaping. Well, shall I take you acrossthere now? One of your pretty cousins would lend you a ball-dress!" Riette's blushes could not be seen in the dark, but she said no more. Monsieur Joseph walked on a few paces and stopped. "Ange will go quicker without us, " he said. "Go, my boy, and God blessand protect you. We have given those rascals of police the slip, Ithink, or they have decided that you are not to be caught here. For thelast day or two Tobie has seen nothing of them. But remember you are notsafe; go cautiously and come back quickly. Do not let your mother keepyou long. I believe I am doing very wrong in letting you go to her atall!" "As to that, Uncle Joseph, it is certain that I won't leave the countrywithout seeing her, " said Angelot. "Go, then, and don't be long, don't be rash; remember that I am dyingwith impatience. You have the pistols I gave you?" "Yes. " "Don't shoot a gendarme if you can help it. It might make things moreserious. Away with you! Come, Riette. " As the two walked back along the lane, Simon scrambled out of their way, like Angelot out of his, into the thick mass of one of the old_truisses_. The dog looked up at the tree and growled as they passed. Monsieur Joseph glanced sharply that way, but saw nothing, and calledthe dog to follow him, walking on a little more quickly. "He will go straight to La Marinière, " he was saying to Riette, "staytwenty minutes or so with his mother, and be back at Les Chouettes inless than an hour"--a piece of information not lost on Simon, whoclimbed down carefully from his tree, looked to his carbine, andchuckled as he walked slowly on towards La Marinière. "Nothing in the world like patience, " he said to himself. "Monsieur leGénéral ought to double my reward for this. I was right from thebeginning; that old devil of a Chouan had the boy hidden in thatrobber's den of his. The fellows thought I was wasting my time andtheirs. They didn't like being half starved and catching cold in thewoods. I have had all the trouble in the world to hold them down to it. But what does it matter, so that we catch our game after all! I mustchoose a good place to drop on the youngster--lucky for me that hecouldn't live without seeing his mother. Is he armed? Never mind! I mustbe fit to die of old age if I can't give an account of a boy like that. His mother, eh? Why did his father go to Paris, if they knew he washere? Perhaps they thought it wiser to keep the good news from MonsieurUrbain; these things divide families. They let him go off on awild-goose chase after a pardon or something. Well, so that I catch him, tie him up out of the General's way, get my money, start off to Paris tosee my father, and--perhaps--never come back--for this affair may makeanother department pleasanter--" So ruminated Simon, as he strolled through the lanes in the starlight, following, as he supposed, in the footsteps of Angelot, and preparing tolie in wait for him at some convenient corner on his return. But when his uncle and cousin left him, disappearing into the shadows, Angelot leaped up on the bank and stood for a minute or two gazingacross at Lancilly. To watch till her shadow passed by one of thoselighted windows--if not to climb to some point where he might see her, herself, without breaking his word to her father and attempting to speakto her--it might cost an extra half-hour and Uncle Joseph's displeasure, perhaps. But after all, what was leaving all the rest of the worldcompared with leaving her, Hélène, and practically for ever? His gentle, frightened love, to whom he had promised all the strength and protectionhe had to give, to whom invisible cords drew him across the valley! "No, I cannot!" Angelot said to himself. He waited for no secondthoughts, but jumped down into the field beyond the bank, and did noteven trouble himself to keep in the shadow while with long lightstrides he ran towards Lancilly. Two hours later Monsieur Joseph was pacing up and down, wildlyimpatient, in front of his house. Over his head, Riette listened behindclosed shutters, and heard nothing but his quick tramp, and an angryexclamation now and then against Angelot. At last Monsieur Josephstopped short and listened. The dogs barked, but he silenced them; thencame a swinging light and two figures hurrying along the shadowyfootpath from La Marinière. Another instant, and Urbain's strong voicerang through the night that brooded over Les Chouettes. "Joseph, you incorrigible old Chouan! what have you done with my boy?" CHAPTER XXIII A DANCE WITH GENERAL RATONEAU All this time, and lately with her son's energetic help, Madame deSainfoy had been arranging her rooms in the most approved fashion of theday. The new furniture was far less beautiful than the old, and far lesssuited to the character of the house; still, like everything belongingto the Empire, it had a severe magnificence. The materials were mahoganyand gilded bronze; the forms were classical, lyres, urns, wingedsphinxes everywhere. In the large salon the walls were hung with yellowsilk instead of the old, despised, but precious tapestries, the longcurtains that swept the floor were yellow silk, with broad bands of redand yellow and a heavy fringe of red and yellow balls. These fashionswere repeated in each room in different colours, green, blue, red; asmaller salon, Madame de Sainfoy's favourite, was hung with a peculiargreen flecked with gold; and for the chairs in this room she, Hélène, Mademoiselle Moineau, and the young girls were working a specialtapestry with wreaths of grapes or asters, lyres, Roman heads whichsuggested Napoleon. Certain unaccountable stains on this fine workbrought a smile long years afterwards into the lovely eyes of Hélène. Paper and paint, innovations at Lancilly, had much to do in beautifyingthe old place. Dark rooms were well lit up by a white paper with a broadborder of red and yellow twisted ribbons. Old stone chimneypieces, window-sills, great solid shutters, were covered thick with yellowpaint. The ideas of Captain Georges were still more modern than those ofUrbain, and suited his mother better. She was angry with Urbain forforsaking her business and hurrying off to Paris in search of hisworthless son; she was especially angry that he went without giving hernotice, or offering to do any of the thousand commissions she couldgladly have given him. However, these faults in Urbain only made Georgesmore valuable; and it was with something not far short of fury that sherefused to listen to her husband when he suggested that the ball mightbe put off because of the trouble and sorrow that hung over his cousinsat La Marinière. The ball was stately and splendid. At the dinner-party a few weeksbefore, only a certain number of notables had been present, and chieflyold friends of the family. To the ball came everybody of any pretensionwhatever, within a radius of many miles. Lancilly stood in Anjou, butnear the borders of Touraine and Maine; all these old provinces werewell represented. Many of the guests were returned emigrants: oldsentiment connected with the names of Sainfoy and Lancilly brought them. Many more were new people of the Empire; mushroom families, on whom theolder ones looked curiously and scornfully. There was a brilliant anddashing body of officers from Sonnay-le-Loir, with General Ratoneau attheir head. There were a number of civil officials of the Empire, thoughthe Prefect himself was not there. Ratoneau was in a strange state of mind. In his full-dress uniform, hisgold lace and plumes, he looked his best, a manly and handsome soldier. Every one turned to look at him, struck by the likeness to Napoleon, stronger than ever that night, for he was graver, quieter, moredignified than usual. He was not at his ease, and oddly enough, thefalse position suited him. There could not be anything but extremecoolness and stiffness in the greeting between him and his host. Hervéde Sainfoy had refused the man his daughter, and heartily despised himfor accepting the formal invitation to this ball. Ratoneau knew that hewas going to be forced as a son-in-law on this coldly courteousgentleman, but let no sign of his coming triumph escape him. Not, atleast, to Hélène's father; her mother was a different story. As theGeneral drew himself upright again, after bending stiffly to kiss herhand, he met his hostess's eyes with such a bold look of confidentunderstanding that she flushed a little and almost felt displeased. Hewas not discreet, she thought. He had no business so to take hersympathy for granted. Other people might have caught that glance andmisunderstood it. She stood for a moment, frowning a little, the graceful lines of hersatin and lace, her head crowned with curls, making a perfect picture ofwhat she meant to be, a great lady of the Empire. Then her look softenedsuddenly, as Georges came up to her. "Listen to me a moment, mamma. General Ratoneau wishes to dance withHélène. She told me this afternoon that she would not dance with him. Isay she must. What do you say?" Madame de Sainfoy twirled her fan impatiently. "Where is she?" "There. " A quadrille was just beginning; the dancers were arranging themselves. The Vicomte des Barres, one of the most strongly declared Royalistspresent, was leading Mademoiselle de Sainfoy forward. He was familiar with the details of the mission to England, on which theBaron d'Ombré was to start that very night; but not even to him had beenconfided Angelot's escape and Monsieur Joseph's further plans. He wasone of the many guests who had been struck by the heartlessness of theSainfoys in giving a ball at this moment, but who came to it for reasonsof their own. He came with the object of hoodwinking the local police, who were watching him and his friends, of scattering the Chouan partyand giving César d'Ombré more chance of a safe and quiet start. The manners, the looks, the talk of Des Barres were all of the oldrégime. He had its charm, its sympathetic grace; and it was with afeeling of relief and safety that Hélène gave her hand to him for thedance, rather than to one of the young Empire heroes whose eyes wereeagerly following her. "Your sister is a fool, " said Madame de Sainfoy, very low. "That is my impression, " said Georges; and they both gazed for aninstant at the couple as they advanced. Hélène's loveliness that night was extraordinary. The music, the lights, the wonderful beauty of the scene in those gorgeous rooms, thelight-hearted talk and laughter all about her, had lifted the heavysadness that lay on her brow and eyes. When every one seemed so gay, could life be quite hopeless, after all? The tender pink in her cheeksthat night was not due to her mother's rouge-box, with which she hadoften been threatened. She was smiling at some pretty old-worldcompliment from Monsieur des Barres. He, for his part, asked himselfwhat the grief could be which lay behind that smile of hers, and foundit easy enough to have his question answered. In a few minutes, in theintervals of the dance, they were talking of her cousin Angelot, hismysterious arrest, the possible reasons for it. Hélène's story wasplainly to be read in the passion of her low voice, her darkening eyes, the quick changes of her colour. Monsieur des Barres was startled, yethardly surprised; it seemed as natural that two such young creaturesshould be attracted to each other, as that their love should be ahopeless fancy; for no reasonable person could dream that Monsieur deSainfoy would give his daughter to a cousin neither rich nor fortunate. He did his best to cheer the girl, without showing that he guessed hersecret. It must be some mistake, he assured her; the government couldhave no good reason for detaining her cousin, who--"unfortunately, " saidMonsieur des Barres, with a smile--"was not a Royalist conspirator atall. " He had the satisfaction of gaining a look and a smile from Hélènewhich must have brought a young man to her feet, and which even made hiswell-trained heart beat a little quicker. Georges de Sainfoy was resolved that his sister should not insult herfamily again by dancing with a known Chouan. For the next dance, Hélènefound herself in the possession of General Ratoneau, clattering sword, creaking boots, and all. Monsieur des Barres, looking back as hewithdrew, saw a cold statue, with white eyelids lowered, making a deepcurtsey to the General under her brother's stern eyes. "Poor little thing!" the Vicomte said to himself. "Poor children! Thepretty boy is impossible, of course. These cousins are the devil. But itis a pity!" General Ratoneau danced very badly, and did not care to dance much. Hehad no intention of making himself agreeable in this way to any lady butthe daughter of the house, whom in his own mind he already regarded asbetrothed to him. He had satisfactory letters from his friends in Paris, assuring him that the imperial order to the Comte de Sainfoy would besent off immediately. It was difficult for him not to boast among hiscomrades of his coming marriage, but he had just decency enough to holdhis tongue. According to his calculations, the order might have arrivedat Lancilly to-day; it could scarcely be delayed beyond to-morrow. Hélène endured him as a partner, and was a little proud of herself forit. She found him repulsive; disliked meeting the bold admiration of hiseyes. But as no one had mentioned him to her during the last few weeks, Madame de Sainfoy and Georges prudently restraining themselves, and ashe had not appeared at Lancilly since the dinner-party, she had ceasedto have any immediate fear of him. And all the brilliancy of thatevening, the triumphant swing of the music, the consciousness of her ownbeauty, delicately heightened by her first partner's looks and words, and last, not least, the comfort he had given her about Angelot, hadraised her drooping spirits so that she found it not impossible tosmile and speak graciously, even with General Ratoneau. After dancing, he led her round the newly decorated rooms, and all thenew fashions in furniture, in dress, in manners, made a subject for talkwhich helped her wonderfully. Ratoneau listened with a smiling stare, asked questions, and laughed now and then. On the surface, his manner was not offensive; he was behavingbeautifully, according to his standard; probably no young woman had everbeen so politely treated by him before. In truth, Hélène's fair beautyand stateliness, the white dignity of a creature so far above hisexperience, awed him a little. But with a man of his kind, no suchfeeling was likely to last long. Any strange touch of shyness whichprotected the lovely girl by his side was passing off as he swore tohimself: "I have risked something, God knows, but she's worth it all. Iam a lucky man--I shall be proud of my wife. " They were in the farther salon, not many people near. He turned upon hersuddenly, with a look which brought the colour to her face, "Do youknow, mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful woman in the world!" Hélène shook her head, a faint smile struggling with instant disgust andalarm. She looked round, but saw no one who could release her from thisrough admirer. She was obliged to turn to him again, and listened to himwith lowered eyes, a recollection of her mother's words weighing nowupon her brain. "The first time I saw you, mademoiselle, " said Ratoneau, "was in thisroom. You were handing coffee with that cousin of yours--young LaMarinière. " He saw the girl's face quiver and grow pale. His own changed, and hissmile became unpleasant. He had not meant to mention that fellow, nowshut up safely somewhere--it was strange, by the bye, that Simon hadnever come back to report himself and take his money! However, as he hadlet Angelot's name fall, there might be some advantage to be had out ofit. "I see his father is not here to-night, " he said. "Sensible man, hisfather. " "How should he be here!" said Hélène, turning her head away. "He is goneto Paris to find him. How could he be here, dancing and laughing--I askmyself, how can anybody--" She spoke half aside, breaking off suddenly. "Yourself, for instance?" said Ratoneau, staring at her. "And why shouldyou shut yourself up and make the whole world miserable, because yourcousin is a fool? But you have not done so. " "Because it is impossible, I am not free. " "What would you be doing now, if you were free?" Hélène shrugged her shoulders. Ratoneau laughed. "Does Monsieur de la Marinière expect to bring his son back with him?"he asked. His tone was sneering, but Hélène did not notice it. "I do not know, monsieur, " she said. "But my cousin will come back. Hehas done nothing. He has been in no plots. The Emperor cannot punish aninnocent man. " She looked up suddenly, cheered by repeating what Monsieur des Barreshad told her. Her pathetic eyes met Ratoneau's for a moment; surely noone could be cruel enough to deny such facts as these. In the General'sfull gaze there was plenty of what was odious to her, but no realkindness or pity. She blushed as she thought: "How dares this man lookat me so? He is nothing but the merest acquaintance. He isinsupportable. " "If we were to go back into the ball-room, monsieur, " she said gravely, beginning to move away. "My mother will be looking for me. " "No, mademoiselle, " said Ratoneau, coolly, "I think not. Madame laComtesse saw me take you this way. " He sat down on a sofa, spreading his broad left hand over the gildedsphinx of its arm. With his right hand he pointed to the place besidehim. "Sit down there, " he said. Hélène frowned with astonishment, caught her breath and looked round. There were two or three people at the other end of the room, but allstrangers to her, and all passing out gradually; no one coming towardsher, no one to rescue her from the extraordinary manners of this man. The glance she gave him was as withering as her gentle eyes could makeit; then she turned her back upon him and began to glide away, alone, down the room. "Mademoiselle--" said Ratoneau; his voice grated on her ears. Was he laughing? was he angry? in any case she was resolved not to speakto the insolent creature again. "Listen, mademoiselle, " said Ratoneau, more loudly, and without rising. "Listen! I will bring your cousin back. " She wavered, paused, then turned and looked at him. He gazed at hergravely, intently; his look and manner were a little less offensive now. "Yes--I am not an ogre, " he said. "I don't eat boys and girls. But Iassure you there are people in the Empire who do. And you are quitewrong if you think that an innocent man is never punished. The policemay have their reasons--bang--there go the big gates of Vincennes, andthe stronger reason that opens them again is hard to find. Innocent orguilty--after all, that pretty cousin of yours has touched a good dealof pitch in the way of _chouannerie_, mademoiselle. " "You said--" Hélène waited and stammered. "I said I would bring him back. You want to understand me? Sit downbeside me here. " The girl hesitated. "Courage! for Angelot!" she said to herself. She did not believe in the man; she dreaded him; shrank from him; butthe name she loved was even more powerful than Ratoneau had expected. "Ah, but we will send that little cousin to the wars, or to America, " hethought, as she came slowly back and let herself sink down, pale andcold, in the opposite corner of the sofa. "Where is my cousin, monsieur?" she said under her breath. "I suppose, as the police arrested him, that he is in their hands, " saidRatoneau. "Where he is at this moment I know no more than you do. " "But you said--" "Yes--I will do it. You can believe, can you not, that I have moreinfluence at headquarters than poor Monsieur de la Marinière--a littlecountry squire who has saved himself by licking the dust before each manin power?" "It is not right for you to speak so of my father's cousin, who has beenso excellent for us all, " Hélène said quickly; then she blushed at herown boldness. "But if you can really do this--I shall be grateful, monsieur. " The words were coldly, impatiently said; she might have been throwing abone to a begging dog. Ratoneau bent forward, devouring her with hiseyes. The delicate line of her profile was partly turned away from him;the eyelids drooped so low that the long lashes almost rested on thecheek. All about her brow and ears, creeping down to her white neck, thefair curls clustered. Soft and narrow folds of white muslin, lace, andfine embroidery, clothed her slender figure with an exaggeratedsimplicity. Her foot, just advanced beyond the frills of the gown, herwhite long fingers clasping her fan; every feature, every touch, everydetail, was as finely beautiful as art and nature could make it; Hélènewas the perfection of dainty aristocracy in the exquisite freshness ofits youth. "I will do it--I will do it--for love of you, " Ratoneau said, and hisvoice became suddenly hoarse. "You are beautiful--and you aremine--mine. " The girl shuddered from head to foot. "No!" she said violently. She did not look at Ratoneau. As to him, he did not speak, but laughedand bent nearer. She rose to her feet suddenly. "You forget yourself--you are mad, Monsieur le Général, " she saidhaughtily. "If that is the condition--no! Pray do not concern yourselfabout my cousin's affairs, you have nothing to do with them. " Ratoneau rose too, a little unsteadily. "Listen one moment, mademoiselle, " he said. "If I am mad, you arefoolish, let me tell you. I said nothing about conditions, I statedfacts. You will be my wife--therefore you are mine, you belong to me, and therefore there is nothing I will not do for love of you. My wife isthe most beautiful woman in France, and she stands here. " "Never, never!" murmured Hélène. "It has come!" she said to herself. Her mother had threatened her with this; and now, apparently, all hadbeen settled without a word to her. Even her father, once on her side, must be against her now. He had been angry with her; not without reason, she knew. Yes, this horrible thing had been arranged by her father, hermother, Georges, while she was kept a prisoner upstairs. If they hadbeen kinder to her in the last few days, it was only that they wished tobring their victim smiling to the sacrifice. No wonder Georges hadinsisted on her dancing with General Ratoneau. No wonder her mother hadtaken pains to dress her beautifully for this ball, which she hated anddreaded so much. These thoughts, with a wild desire to escape, rushed through Hélène'smind as she stood breathless before this man who laid such a daringclaim to her. He was smiling, though his lips were white. It is notpleasant to be treated as horrible scum of the earth by the woman youhave arranged to marry; to see scorn, disgust, hatred in a girl's face, answering to your finest compliments. "This young lady has a character--she has a temper--" he mutteredbetween his teeth. "But you will be tamed, ma belle. Who would havethought with those pale cheeks of yours--well, the Emperor's commandwill bring you to reason. Pity I spoke, perhaps--but a man cannot keepcool always. That command--Ah, thousand thunders! what do I see?" The last words were spoken aloud. As Hélène stood before him, silent, rooted with horror to the ground, he watching her with folded arms in afavourite imperial attitude, several sets of people strolled across thelower end of the room, for this was one of a suite of salons. Suddenlycame the master of the house alone, walking slowly, his eyes fixed on aletter in his hand, his face deathly white in the glimmer of the manywax candles. Hélène did not see her father at first, for her back wasturned to him, but at the General's words she turned quickly, and wasjust aware of him as he passed into the next room. Without another wordor look she left her partner standing there, and fled away in pursuit ofhim. Ratoneau watched the white figure vanishing, laughed aloud, andswore heartily. "This is dramatic, " he said. "Fortunate that I have a friend at Court inMadame la Comtesse! Suppose I go and join her. " Hélène searched for her father in vain. By the time she reached theother room, he had quite unaccountably vanished. As she flew on ratherdistractedly among the guests, hurrying back to the ball-room, herbrother's peremptory hand was laid upon her arm. "What is the matter, Hélène? Where are you running? Are you dancing withno one, and why do you look so wild?" Hélène answered none of these questions. "Find me a partner, if you please, " she said, with a sudden effort atcollecting herself. "But, Georges--no more of your officers. " Georges looked at her with a queer smile, but only said-- "And no more of your Chouans!" CHAPTER XXIV HOW MONSIEUR DE SAINFOY FOUND A WAY OUT If Angelot expected to find the usual woodland stillness, that night, about the approaches to the Château de Lancilly, he was mistaken. Theold place was surrounded; numbers of servants, ranks of carriages, a fewgendarmes and soldiers. Half the villages were there, too, crowdingabout the courts, under the walls, and pressing especially round thechief entrance on the west, where a bridge over the old moat led into acourt surrounded with high-piled buildings, one stately roof risingabove another. Monsieur de Sainfoy kept up the old friendly fashion, andno gates shut off his neighbours from his domain. Angelot came through the wood, which almost touched the house andshadowed the moat on the north side. He had meant to go in at some door, to pass through one of the halls, perhaps, and catch a glimpse of thedancing. All this now seemed more difficult; he could not go among thepeople without being recognised, and though, as far as himself wasconcerned, he would have dared anything for a sight of Hélène, loyaltyto his uncle stood in the way of foolhardiness. He walked cautiously towards the steps leading down into the moat. Thiscorner, far from any entrance, was dark and solitary. The little door inthe moat was probably still blocked; but in any case the ivy was there, and the chapel window--heaven send it open, or at least unbarred! "I shall do no harm to-night, Cousin Hervé. I shall see her dancing withsome happy fellow. If I don't know Lancilly well enough to spend tenminutes in the old gallery--nobody will be there--well, then--" "Monsieur Angelot!" said a deep voice out of the darkness. "Not an inch nearer, or I fire!" Angelot replied, and his pistol wasready. "Tiens! Don't kill me, for I am desperately glad to see you, " and MartinJoubard limped forward. "You got away from those ragamuffins, then? Ithought as much, when I heard they had been watching the woods. Butwhere are you hiding, and what are you doing here? Take care, there area lot of police and gendarmes about. Are you safe?" "No, I'm not safe--at least my uncle says so. Did you think I would staywith those rascals long?" Angelot laughed. "I'm going out of the countryto-night. Hold your tongue, Martin. Wait here. I will come back thisway, and you can warn me if there is any one on the track. " "Going out of the country without seeing madame, and she breaking herheart?" said Martin, disapproving. "No, I am on my way. Pst! I hear footsteps, " and Angelot dropped intothe moat, while the soldier stepped back into the shadow of the trees. "On his way to La Marinière--from his uncle's! Rather roundabout, Monsieur Angelot. Ah, but to have all one's limbs!" sighed Martin, smiling, for plenty of gossip had reached him; and he listened to thegay music which made the air dance, and to the voices and laughter, tillhe forgot everything else in the thrilling knowledge that somebody wasscrambling up through the ivy on the opposite wall. There was a slightclank and crash among the thick depth of leaves; then silence. "He ought to be one of us, that boy!" thought Martin. "I'll wait forhim. I like a spark of the devil. My father says Monsieur Joseph was athorough _polisson_, and almost as pretty as his nephew. He's a piouslittle gentleman now. They are a curious family!" Angelot slipped through the dark empty chapel, and the wind howledbehind him. He ran down the passage between rooms that were empty anddark, for Mademoiselle Moineau and her pupils had been allowed to godown to the ball. He went through stone-vaulted corridors, unlighted, cold and lonely, across half the length of the great house. He had towatch his moment for passing the head of the chief staircase, for therewere people going up and down, servants trying to see what they could ofthe gay doings below. Waves of warm and scented air rolled up againsthis face as he darted past, keeping close to the wall, one moving shadowmore. Music, laughing, talking, filled old Lancilly like a flood, ebbingand flowing so; and every now and then the tramping of feet on theball-room floor echoed loudest. Angelot knew of a little gallery room with narrow slits in thestonework, opening out of the further passage that led to Monsieur andMadame de Sainfoy's rooms. It used to be empty or filled with lumber; itnow held several large wardrobes, but the perforated wall remained. Hefound the door open; it was not quite dark, for gleams of light madetheir way in from the chandeliers in the ball-room, one end of which itoverlooked. There were also a couple of lights in the passage outside. From this high point Angelot looked down upon the ball. And first it wasnothing but a whirling confusion of sound and colour and light; theflying dresses, the uniforms, jewels, gold lace, glittering necklaces, flashing sword hilts. Then--that fair head, that white figure alone. He could hear nothing of what was said; but he saw her brother come upwith General Ratoneau, he watched the dance--and if those slits in thesolid wall had been wider, there might have been danger of a young man'sdaring to drop down by his hands, trusting to fate to land him safelyon the floor below. For he saw his love walk away with her partner downthe ball-room, out of his sight, and then he waited in unbearableimpatience, but saw her no more for what seemed a long time. He began tothink that he must go, carrying with him the agony of leaving her infamiliar talk with Ratoneau, when suddenly he saw her again, and forgothis mother, his uncle, César d'Ombré, and all the obligations of life. She came back alone; her brother was speaking to her; she lookedtroubled, there was something strange about it all, but Ratoneau was notthere. That, at least, was well; and how divinely beautiful she looked! Angelot gazed for a minute or two, holding his breath; then a suddenstep and a voice in the corridor close by startled him violently. He hadleft the door half open, standing where he could not be seen through it. He now turned his head to see who was passing. It was the step of oneperson only, a quick and agitated step. Was this person then speaking tohim? No, it was his cousin Hervé de Sainfoy, and he was talking tohimself. He was repeating the same words over and over again: "But whocan save us? What shall I do? What shall I do? Who can save us? A wayout, he says? My God, there is none. " When his cousin had passed the door, Angelot stepped forward and lookedafter him. It was impossible not to do so. The Comte was like a man whohad received some terrible blow. His face was white and drawn, and hiswhole frame trembled as he walked. He carried an open letter shaking andrustling in his hand, glanced at it now and then, flung his clenchedfists out on each side of him. Then he said aloud, "My God, it is her doing!" Angelot forgot all caution and stepped out into the corridor. His cousinseemed to be walking on to his own room at the end; but before hereached it he turned suddenly round and came hurrying back. Angelotstood and faced him. He, too, was pale from his imprisonment and the excitement of the night, but as he met Hervé de Sainfoy's astonished gaze the colour flooded hisyoung face and his brave bright eyes fell. "_You_ here, Angelot?" said the Comte. He spoke absently, gently, with no great surprise and no anger at all. Angelot knew that he loved him, and felt the strangest desire to kneeland kiss his hand. "Pardon, monsieur"--he began quickly--"I was looking at the ball--Ileave France to-morrow, and--Can I help you, Uncle Hervé?" For he sawthat the Comte was listening to no explanations of his. He staredstraight before him, frowning, biting his lips, shaking the letter inhis hand. "It is some diabolical intrigue, " he said. "How can you help, my poorboy? No! but I would rather see her dead at my feet--for her ownsake--and the insult to me!" "But tell me what it all means? Let me do something!" cried Angelot; forthe words thrilled him with a new terror. He almost snatched the letter from his cousin's hand. "Yes, yes, read it. Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" Hervé groaned, and stampedhis feet. The letter was written in very shaky characters, and Angelot had to holdit under one of the candle sconces on the wall. "My dear Comte:-- "You will receive to-morrow, I have reason to think, an Imperial recommendation--which means a command--to give Mademoiselle your daughter in marriage to General Ratoneau. If you see any way out of this dilemma, I need hardly advise you to take it. You would have been warned earlier of the danger, but circumstances have been too strong for me. My part in the affair I hope to explain. In the meanwhile believe in my sincere friendship, and burn this letter. "_De Mauves_. " Angelot drew in his breath sharply. "Ah! The Prefect is good, " he said. While he read the letter, his cousin was staring at him. Slowly, intently, yet with a sort of vague distraction, his eyes travelled overAngelot; the plain shooting clothes, so odd a contrast in that gayhouse, at that time of night, to his own elegant evening dress; thehandsome, clear-cut, eager face, the young lips set with a man'sfirmness and energy. "I thought you were in prison, " said Hervé. "I escaped from the police. " "Why did they arrest you?" "I do not know. I believe it was a private scheme of that rascalSimon's--such things have happened. " "Tell me all--and quickly. " Angelot began to obey him, but after a few words broke off suddenly. "Uncle Hervé, what is the use of talking about me? What are you going todo? Let us think--yes, I have a plan. If you were to call my cousinHélène quietly out of the ball-room to change her dress, I would havehorses ready in the north wood, and I would ride with you at least partof the way to Le Mans. There you could get a post-chaise and drive toParis. Place her safely in a convent, and go yourself to the Emperor--" "And do you suppose, Angelot, that I have enough influence with theEmperor to make him withdraw an order already given--and do you not knowthat this is a favourite amusement of his, this disgusting plan ofgiving our daughters to any butcher and son of a butcher who hasslaughtered enough men to please him? Your uncle Joseph told us allabout it. He said it was in the Prefect's hands--I can hardly believethat our Prefect would have treated me so. There is some intriguebehind all this. I suspect--ah, I will teach them to play their trickson me! A convent--my poor boy, do you expect they would leave her there?Even a hundred years ago they would have dragged her out for a politicalmarriage--how much more now!" For a moment there was dead silence; they looked hard at each other, butif Angelot read anything in his cousin's eyes, it was something tooextraordinary to be believed. He flushed again suddenly as he said, "Youcan never consent to such a marriage, for you gave me your word ofhonour that you would not. " "Will they ask my consent? I have refused it once already, " said Hervéde Sainfoy. He walked a few steps, and turned back; he was much calmer now, and hisface was full of grave thought and resolution. "Angelot, " he said, "you are your father's son, as well as your uncle'snephew. Tell me, have you actually done anything to bring you underimperial justice?" "Nothing, " Angelot answered. "The police may pretend to think so. UncleJoseph says I am in danger. But I have done nothing. " "Did you say you were leaving the country to-morrow? Alone?" "With some of Uncle Joseph's friends. " "Ah! And your father?" "I shall come back some day. Life is too difficult, " said Angelot. "You want an anchor, " Hervé said, thoughtfully. "Now--will you doeverything I tell you?" "In honour. " "Tiens! Honour! Was it honour that brought you into my house to-night?" "No--but not dishonour. " "Well, there is no time for arguing. I suppose you are not bound inhonour to this wild-goose chase of your uncle's--or his friends'?" "I don't know, " Angelot said; and indeed he did not, but he knew thatCésar d'Ombré looked upon him as an addition to his troubles, and hadonly accepted his company to please Monsieur Joseph. And now the same power that had dragged Angelot out of his way toLancilly was holding him fast, heart and brain, and was saying to him, "You cannot go"; the strongest power in the world. He was trembling fromhead to foot with a wilder, stranger madness than any he had ever known;the great decisive hour of his life was upon him, and he felt it, hardas it was to realise or understand anything in those dark, confusedmoments. What wonderful words had Hervé de Sainfoy said? by what way had hebrought him, and set him clear of the château? he hardly knew. He foundhimself out in the dark on the south, the village side; he had to skirtround the backs of the houses and then slip up the river bank till hecame to the bridge between the long rows of whispering, rustlingpoplars. After that a short cut across the fields, where he knew everybush and every rabbit hole, brought him up under the shadow of thechurch at La Marinière. The Curé lived with his old housekeeper in a low white house above thechurch, on the way to the manor. She was always asleep early; but theold man, being very studious and too nervous to sleep much, often sat upreading till long after midnight. Angelot therefore counted on finding alight in his window, and was not disappointed. He cut his old friend'seager welcome very short. "Monsieur le Curé, come with me at once to the château, if you please. Monsieur de Sainfoy wishes to see you. " "At this hour of the night! What can he want with me? I understood thewhole world was dancing. " "So it is--but he wants you, he wants you. Quick, where is your hat?" "How wild you look, Angelot! Is any one dying?" "No, no!" "Why does he not send for his own priest?" "Because he wants a discreet man. He wants you. " The Curé began to hurry about the room. "By the bye, take your vestments, " said Angelot in a lower tone. "Hewants you to say mass in the chapel. Take everything you ought to have. I will carry it all for you. " "The chapel is not in a fit state--and who will serve at the mass?" "I will--or he will find somebody. Oh, trust me, Monsieur le Curé, andcome, or I shall have to carry you. " "But _you_, Ange--I thought--" "Don't think! All your thoughts are wrong. " "My dear boy, have you seen your father?" "No! Has he come back?" "Two hours ago. He has gone to Les Chouettes with your mother, to findyou. " "Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Angelot, and laughed loudly. The good old Curé was seriously frightened. He thought that thischarming boy, whom he had known from his birth, was either crazy ordrunk with strong wine. Yet, as he really could not be afraid to trusthimself to Angelot, he did as he was told, collected all he wanted, asking questions all the time which the young man did not or could notanswer, and started off with him into the dim and chilly dampness of thenight. Angelot nearly died of impatience. He had run all the way to LaMarinière, he had to walk all the way back, and slowly. For the Curé wasfeeble, and his sight was not good, and the lanes and fields wereterribly uneven. Angelot had prudence enough not to take a light, whichwould have been seen a mile off, moving on those slopes in thedarkness. This precaution also helped to save him from Simon, who, afterwaiting about for some time between Les Chouettes and La Marinière, hadseen Monsieur and Madame Urbain coming out with their lantern and hadtracked them half the way, hearing enough of their talk to understandthat he must lay hands on Angelot that night, or not at all. For itsounded as if the young man's protectors were more powerful than GeneralRatoneau, his enemy. Simon was very uneasy, as he stole back, and turned towards Lancilly, shrewdly guessing that those bright windows had attracted Angelot. Hecrept through the lanes like a wolf in winter, searching for some lonelycolt or sheep to devour. Furious and bewildered, worn out with his longwatching, he almost resolved that young La Marinière should have shortshrift if he met him. This, it seemed now, was the only way to removehim out of the General's path. None of his relations knew exactly wherehe was that night. If he were found dead in a ditch, the hand thatstruck him would never be known. For his own sake, General Ratoneauwould never betray the suspicions he might have. At the same time, Simonwas not such a devil incarnate as to think of cold-blooded murderwithout a certain horror and sickness; and he found it in his heart towish that he had never seen Ratoneau. He heard footsteps in a deep lane he was approaching, and lying down, peered over the bank and saw that two men had already passed him, walking cautiously between the ruts of the road. They carried no light, and it was so dark in the lane that he could hardly distinguish them. One seemed taller than the other, and walked more feebly. There wasnothing to suggest the idea that one of these men might be Angelot. Allpointed to the contrary. He would be coming towards La Marinière, notgoing from it towards Lancilly. He would certainly be alone; and thenhis air and pace would be different from that of this shorter figure, who, carefully guiding his companion, was also carrying some bundle orload. There was a low murmur of talk which the police spy could notdistinguish, and thus, his game within shooting distance, he allowed himto walk away unharmed. He followed the two men slowly, however, till helost them on the edge of the park at Lancilly. There Angelot took theCuré by a way of his own into the wood, and led him up by a path softwith dead leaves to the north side of the château. "Monsieur Angelot!" It was once more Martin Joubard's voice. He was much astonished, nothaving seen Angelot leave the château. He stared at the Curé and tookoff his hat. "All's well, Martin; you are a good sentry--but hold your tongue alittle longer, " said Angelot. "Ah! but take care, Monsieur Angelot, " said the soldier, pointing withhis stick to the dark, tremendous walls which towered beyond the moat. "I don't know what is going on there, but don't venture too far. There'sa light in the chapel window, do you see? and just now I heard themhammering at the little door down there in the moat. It may be a trapfor you. Listen, though, seriously. I don't know what sport you may beafter, but you ought not to run Monsieur le Curé into it, and so I tellyou. It is not right. " The good fellow's voice shook with anxiety. He did not pretend to beextra religious, but his father and mother reverenced the Curé, and hehad known him ever since he was born. Angelot laughed impatiently. "Come, Monsieur le Curé, " he said. "We are going down into the moat, butthe steps are uneven, so give me your hand. " "Do not be anxious, Martin, " said the old man. "All is well, Monsieur deSainfoy has sent for me. " The crippled sentry waited. In the deep shadows he could see no more, but he heard their steps as they climbed down and crossed the moat, andthen he heard the creaking hinges of that door far below. It wascautiously closed. All was dark and still in the moat, but shadowscrossed the lighted chapel window. The wind was rising, the clouds were flying, and the stars shining out. Waves of music flowed from the south side of the long mass of building, and sobbed away into the rustling woods. An enchanting valse was beingplayed. Georges de Sainfoy was dancing with the richest heiress inTouraine, and his mother was so engrossed with a new ambition for himthat she forgot Hélène for the moment, and her more certain future asthe wife of General Ratoneau. Madame de Sainfoy had not seen her husband since he received thePrefect's letter, and was not aware of his disappearance from the ball, now at the height of its success and splendour. CHAPTER XXV HOW THE CURÉ ACTED AGAINST HIS CONSCIENCE If the old priest had come in faith at Monsieur de Sainfoy's call, notknowing, not even suspecting what was wanted of him, Angelot, who knewall, yet found it impossible to believe. Therefore he could not bringhimself to give the Curé any explanation, or even to mention Hélène'sname. Her father, for whom he now felt a passionate, enthusiasticreverence and love, had trusted him in the matter. He had said, restinghis hand on his shoulder: "Tell Monsieur le Curé what you please. Orleave it to me to tell him all;" and Angelot had felt that the Curé mustbe brought in ignorance. Afterwards he knew that there were otherreasons for this, besides the vagueness in his own mind. The Curé had agreat sense of the fitness of things. Also, next to God and his Bishop, he felt bound to love and serve Urbain and Anne de la Marinière. When Angelot opened the little door, which he found ajar, there was aflickering light on the damp narrow stairs that wound up in thethickness of the wall. There stood Hervé de Sainfoy, tall, pale, verycalm now, with a look of resolution quite new to his pleasant features. "You are welcome, Monsieur le Curé, " he said. "Follow me. " The old man obeyed silently, and the two passed on before Angelot. Whenthey reached the topmost winding of the staircase, Hervé led the Curéround into the corridor, still carrying his light, and saying, "A wordalone with you. " At the same time he motioned to Angelot to go forwardinto the chapel. The altar was partly arranged for service, the candles were lighted, andone white figure, its face hidden, was kneeling there. Angelot stood andlooked for a moment, with dazzled eyes. The wind moaned, the distantvalse flowed on. Here in the old neglected chapel, under the kind eyesof the Virgin's statue, he had left Hélène that night, weeks ago. He hadnever seen her since, except in the ball-room this very evening, lovelyas a dream; but she was lovelier than any dream now. He went up softly beside her, stooped on one knee and kissed the fingersthat rested on the old worm-eaten bench. She looked up suddenly, blushing scarlet, and they both rose to their feet and stood quitestill, looking into each other's eyes. They did not speak; there wasnothing to say, except "I love you, " and words were not necessary forthat. At first there was terror and bewilderment, rather thanhappiness, in Hélène's face, and her hands trembled as Angelot heldthem; but soon under his gaze and his touch a smile was born. All thoseweeks of desolate loneliness were over, her one and only friend stoodbeside her once again, to leave her no more. The horrors of that verynight, the terrible ball-room full of glittering uniforms and clankingswords, the odious face and voice of Ratoneau;--her father had beckonedher away, had taken her from it all for ever. He had told her in a fewwords of the Prefect's letter and his resolution, without even takingthe trouble to ask her if she would consent to marry her cousin. "It isthe only thing to be done, " he said. Neither of them had even mentionedher mother. The suspicion that his wife had had something to do withthis imperial order made Hervé even more furious than the order itself, and more resolved to settle the affair in his own way. "Now I understand, " he thought, "why Adélaïde invited the brute to thisball. I wager that she knew what was coming. It is time I showed themall who is the master of this house!" And now, when everything was arranged, when the bridegroom and the bridewere actually waiting in the chapel, when every minute was of importanceand might bring some fatal interruption--now, here was the excellent oldCuré full of curious questions and narrow-minded objections. "Monsieur le Comte, impossible!" he cried in the corridor. "Marrymademoiselle your daughter to Ange de la Marinière--and without anyproper notice, without witnesses, at midnight, unknown to his parents!Do you take me for a constitutional priest, may I ask?" "No, Monsieur le Curé, and that is why I demand this service of you. You, an old friend of both families, I send for you rather than for myown Curé of Lancilly. " "Ah, I dare say! But do I understand that you are disobeying an orderfrom the Emperor? Am I to ruin myself, by aiding and abetting you?Besides--" "No, Monsieur le Curé, you understand nothing of the kind. I explainnothing. You run yourself into no danger--but if you did, I should askyou all the more. A man like you, who held firm to his post through theRevolution--" "Pardon--I did not hold firm. Monsieur de la Marinière protected me. " "And now I will protect you. Listen. I have had no order from theEmperor. I have heard, by means of a friend, that such an order is onits way. It would compel me to marry my daughter to a man she hates, adegrading connection for me. There is only one way of saving her. Youknow that she and young Ange love each other--they have suffered forit--we will legalise this love of theirs. When the order reaches me, myHélène will be already married. The Emperor can say nothing. HisGeneral must seek a wife elsewhere. Now, Monsieur le Curé, are yousatisfied? The children are waiting. " "No, monsieur, no, I am not satisfied. I think there is more risk thanyou tell me, but I do not mind that. I will not, I cannot, marry youngAnge to your daughter without his father's knowledge. Your cousin--Godbless him!--is not a religious man, but I owe him a debt I can neverrepay. " Count Hervé laughed angrily. "You know very well, " he said, "that ifUrbain is displeased at this marriage, it will be for our sake, not hisown. How could he hope for such a match for Angelot?" "His love for you is wonderful, Monsieur le Comte. But I am not talkingof his likings or dislikings. I say that I will not marry these youngpeople without his consent. " "And I say you will. Understand, I mean it. Listen; my cousin Joseph wassending Ange to England to-night with some of his friends out of the wayof the police. I will dress Hélène up as a boy, and send her with him, trusting to a marriage when they land. I will do anything to get her offmy hands to-night, and Angelot will not fail me. The responsibility isyours, Monsieur le Curé. " The old man wrung his hands. "Monsieur le Comte, you are mad!" he said. But these threats were effectual, as no fear of personal sufferingwould have been, and the Curé, though solemnly protesting, submitted. The delay he caused was not yet over, however. No angry frowns andimpatient words would induce him to begin the service before the twoyoung people had separately made their confession to him. Luckily, bothwere ready to do this, and neither was very long; when at last the Curé, properly vested, began with solemn deliberation the words of theservice, his eyes were full of tears, not altogether unhappy. "Two white souls, madame, " he told Anne afterwards. "Your son and yourdaughter--you may love them freely, and trust their love for you and foreach other. Never did I join the hands of two such innocent children asour dear Ange and his Hélène. " He had, in fact, just joined their hands for the first time, when helooked round anxiously at Monsieur de Sainfoy and murmured, "There is noone you can trust, monsieur--no other possible witness?" "None, " the Comte answered shortly; and even as he spoke they all hearda sharp knocking in the corridor, and the opening and shutting of doors. "Go on, go on! This comes of all your delay, " he muttered, and Angelotlooked round, alarmed, while Hélène turned white with fear. Then the person in the corridor, whoever this might be, evidently saw alight through some chink in the chapel door, for the latch was lifted, and a small but impatient voice cried out, "Hélène--are you there?" It was not the voice of Adélaïde. Angelot looked at Hélène and smiled;the Curé hesitated. Monsieur de Sainfoy walked frowning to the door, which he had locked, and flung it open. "Come in, mademoiselle, " he said. "Here is your witness, Monsieur leCuré. " Mademoiselle Moineau, flushed, agitated, in her best gown, stood on thethreshold with hands uplifted. "What--what is all this?" she stammered; and the scene that met her eyeswas certainly strange enough to bewilder a respectable governess. It had occurred to Madame de Sainfoy to miss her daughter from theball-room. Suspecting that the stupid girl had escaped to her own room, she had told Mademoiselle Moineau to fetch her at once, to insist on hercoming down and dancing. And even now, in spite of this amazing, horrifying spectacle, in spite of the Comte's presence, and his voicerepeating, "Come in, mademoiselle!" the little woman was brave enough toprotest. "What is happening?" she said, and hurried a few steps forward. "Hélène, I am astonished. This must be stopped at once. Good heavens, what willMadame la Comtesse say!" "Let me beg you to be silent, mademoiselle, " said Hervé de Sainfoy. He had already closed and locked the door. He now bent forward with analmost savage look; his pleasant face was utterly transformed by strongfeeling. "Sit down, " he said peremptorily. "You see me; I am here. My authorityis sufficient, remember--Monsieur le Curé, have the goodness toproceed. " Mademoiselle Moineau sank down on a bench and groaned. Her shocked, staring eyes took in every detail of the scene; the banished lover, thesupposed prisoner, in his country clothes, with that dark woodland lookof his; the white girl in her ball-dress, standing with bent head, andnot moving or looking up, even at her mother's name. The joined hands, white and brown; the young, low voices, plighting their troth one to theother; then the trembling tones of the old priest alone in solemn Latinwords, "_Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium_. .. . " The service went on; and now no one, not even Monsieur de Sainfoy, tookany notice of the unwilling spectator. She was a witness in spite ofherself. She sank on her knees and sobbed in a corner, partly from realdistress at a marriage she thought most foolish and unsuitable, partlyfrom fear of what Madame de Sainfoy might say or do. Her rage mustcertainly find some victim. She would never believe that MademoiselleMoineau could not have escaped and called her in time to interrupt thisfrantic ceremony. As for Monsieur de Sainfoy, his brain must certainlyhave given way. The poor governess hoped little from him, though heshowed some method in his madness by leaving her locked up in the chapelwhen they all went away and telling her to wait there in silence till hecame back. At least that was better than being forced to go down aloneto announce this catastrophe to Hélène's mother. The Comtesse would havebeen capable of turning her out into midnight darkness after the firstdozen words. Hélène, her dearest wish and wildest dream fulfilled in this strangefashion, seemed to be walking in her sleep. She obeyed her father'sorders without a word to him or to Angelot, threw on a cloak, andfollowed them and the Curé down the steep blackness of the windingstairs. At the door her father put out his light, and it was his handthat guided her through the long grass and bushes in the moat, whileAngelot gave all his care to the old priest. At the top of the steps, asthe four hastily crossed into the deeper shadows of the wood, the talland strange figure of Martin Joubard appeared out of the gloom. A fewhurried words to him, and he readily undertook to see the Curé safelyhome. The sight of Monsieur de Sainfoy impressed him amazingly; it wasevident that Monsieur Angelot had not been acting without authority. Martin stared with all his eyes at the cloaked woman's figure in thebackground, but promised himself to have all details from the Curé ontheir way through the lanes. Hervé de Sainfoy again gave his arm to his daughter, leading her downinto the darkness of the wood. Angelot, more familiar with the ways, walked a yard or two in front of them. Several times--his sportinginstinct not dulled by the wonderful thing that had happened--he wasaware of a slight rustling in the bushes on the right, between the pathwhere they were and the open ground of the park beyond the wood. Helistened to this with one ear, while the other was attentive to hisfather-in-law. It did not strike Monsieur de Sainfoy, once away from thehouse, that caution and silence might be necessary; he talked out of therelief and gladness of his heart, while affectionately pressing Hélène'shand in his arm. "Make my compliments to your uncle, Angelot. Ask him to forgive me fortaking his nephew and sending him back a niece. He will see that yourduty lies in France now. As to that dear father of yours, I shall soonmake my peace with him. " "Papa!" Hélène spoke for the first time, and Angelot forgot the rustlingin the bushes. "Cannot we--may not we go to La Marinière?" "Not at first, " said Hervé, more gravely. "Ange must make sure of awelcome there--and he knows his uncle Joseph. " "There is another reason, " Angelot said eagerly. "My uncle is expectingme. He has made arrangements for me--this very night--I must come to anunderstanding with him. You know--" he said, looking at Hélène, "myuncle has risked much for me. To-morrow--or to-day, is it? my mothershall welcome you. You are not displeased?" "No, no. Take me anywhere--I will go anywhere you like, " Hélène answereda little faintly; the thought of Angelot's mother, slightly as she knewher, had been sweet and comforting. For she was a timid girl, and these wild doings frightened her, thoughshe loved Angelot and trusted him with all her heart. Her father laughed. "Certainly, my poor girl, " he said, "no daughter of Lancilly was everbefore married and smuggled away in such a fashion. " "I am satisfied, papa, " said Hélène; and they passed on through the woodand came to the crossing of the roads, where he kissed her, and oncemore laid her hand in Angelot's. "Take care of your wife, " he said to him; and he stood a minute in theroad, watching the two young figures, very close together, as theyturned into a hollow lane that wound up into the fields and so ontowards Les Chouettes. The Curé and Martin Joubard started away from the château by a path thatcrossed the park and reached the bridge without going through thevillage. They were not yet clear of the park, walking slowly, when a mancame out of the shadows of the wood to the north, and crossed theirpath, going towards the south side of the château. He passed at someyards' distance in the confusing darkness of the low ground, where mistswere rising; but Martin Joubard had the eyes of a hawk, and knew him. "Pardon, Monsieur le Curé!" he said, dropped the bundle he was carryingat the Curé's feet, and sped away at his wooden leg's best pace afterthe man. "_Hé_, police!" he said, as he came up with him, "what are you spyingabout here? Looking after the Emperor's enemies?" "You are not far wrong, " said Simon. "And you--what are you doing here, soldier?" "My fighting days are done. I look out for amusement now. Did you seesome people just now, going down through the wood? A young gentleman youwant--who gave you the slip--was he there?" "I saw and heard enough to interest me, " Simon answered drily. "It istime to finish off this business. I can't quite see what is going on, but I shall find out at the château. I have been following that youngman all night, but I shall catch him up now. " "I might help you with a little information, " Martin said. The police agent looked at him suspiciously. "Tell me no lies, " he said, "or"--he pointed to his carbine. "Oh, if that is your game--" Martin said. His heavy-headed stick swung in the air. "Crack!" it came down on theside of Simon's head and laid him flat on the turf. Martin stood andlooked at him. "Now the saints grant I have not killed him, " he said piously, "though Ithink he might very well be spared. But he won't go and catch MonsieurAngelot just at present. " He left Simon lying there, and went quietly back to join the Curé. CHAPTER XXVI HOW ANGELOT KEPT HIS TRYST For Hélène, the next wonder in that autumn night's dream was the arrivalat Les Chouettes, the mysterious house which bore the character of a denof Chouans, but the thought of which had always pleased her, as the homeof Angelot's most attractive uncle. Angelot hurried her through the lanes, almost in silence. At last hestopped under a tall poplar, which gleamed grey in the starlight amongthe other lower trees. It was close to the spot where, coming from LesChouettes in the evening, he had been irresistibly drawn by the lightsof Lancilly. Here he took Hélène in his arms and kissed her for thefirst time since the Curé had joined their hands. "Mine!" he said. "My love, Hélène! you are not unhappy, you are notafraid, my own?" "I am with you, " the girl said, very low. "Ah! if only--anyhow, I am the happiest man in the world. Come, dearest!" Hélène wondered at him a little. He was changed, somehow, her gay, talkative, light-hearted, single-minded Angelot. He had become grave. She longed to ask him many things--how had he escaped or been releasedfrom prison?--was it his father's doing?--would his father and mother bedispleased at his marriage?--but in spite of the rapture of knowing thatthey belonged to each other, she felt strangely shy of him. In thatsilent, hurried walk she dimly realised that her boy friend and loverhad grown suddenly into a man. There was keen anxiety as well as joy inthe quick, passionate embrace he allowed himself before bringing her tohis uncle's hands. They walked up to the house, over the grass and the spreading sand. Allwas silent and dark, except a gleam of light from Monsieur Joseph'swindow. A dog came up and jumped on Angelot, with a little whine ofwelcome; another pressed up to Hélène and licked her hand. She wasstanding between the dog and Angelot when Monsieur Joseph, hearingfootsteps, suddenly opened the window and stepped out with his gun. He stared a moment in astonished silence--then: "It is you, Anne! He hasbeen home, then, the good-for-nothing! You have seen your father, Ange?Well, I told him, and I tell you, that you must go all the same--yes, mynephew does not break promises, or fail to keep appointments--but comein, Anne! What is the use of racing about the country all night? How didyou miss him, the worthless fellow?" "This is not my mother, Uncle Joseph, " Angelot said, laughter strugglingwith earnestness, while his arm slid round Hélène. "Let me present youto my wife. " "What are you saying?" cried Monsieur Joseph, very sharply and sternly, coming a step nearer. "I see now--but who is this lady? None of yourinsolent jokes--who is it? Dieu! What have you done!" "I have been to the ball at Lancilly, " said Angelot. "You see, this ismy cousin Hélène. She preferred a walk with me to a dance with otherpeople. And Uncle Hervé thought--" "Be silent, " said Monsieur Joseph. He walked forward, pushed his nephewaside--a touch was enough for Angelot--and gently taking Hélène's hand, drew her into the light that streamed from his window. "Mademoiselle, "he said, "my nephew is distracted. What truth is there in all this? Areyou here with your father's knowledge. Something extraordinary must havehappened, it seems to me. " "It is true, monsieur, " Hélène said, blushing scarlet. "It was myfather's doing. He sent for the Curé, and we were married in the chapel, not an hour ago. Do not be angry with us, I beg of you, monsieur. Hesaid he must bring me to you first--and he loves you. My father did itto save me. Ange will explain. My father sent his compliments toyou--and he said--he said you will see that your nephew's duty lies inFrance now. " Hélène was astonished at her own eloquent boldness. Angelot watchedher, smiling, enchanted. Monsieur Joseph listened very gravely, his eyesupon her troubled face. When she paused, he bent and kissed her hand. "I do not understand the mystery, " he said. "I only see that my nephewis the most fortunate man in France. But I repeat, that he may hearme--honour comes before happiness. Go round to the salon, my friends. Iwill bring a light and open the door. " "Is it really myself--or am I dreaming?--yes, it must be all a dream!"Hélène murmured, as she sat alone in Monsieur Joseph's salon, beside aflaming wood fire that he had lighted with his own hands. His first shock once over, the little uncle treated his nephew's wifelike a princess. He made her sit in his largest chair, he put a cushionbehind her, a footstool under her feet. With gentle hands he lifted thecloak that had slipped from her slight shoulders, advising her to keepit on till the room had grown warm, for she was shivering, though hardlyconscious of it. He went himself to fetch wine and cakes, set them on atable beside her, tried unsuccessfully to make her eat and drink. Thenhe glanced at his watch and turned in his quick way to Angelot, who hadbeen looking on at these attentions with a smile, almost jealous of thelittle uncle, yet happy that he should thus accept the new situation andtake Hélène to his affectionate heart. "Come with me, Angelot, " said Monsieur Joseph. "Excuse us for a fewminutes, my dear niece, "--he bowed to Hélène. "Affairs of state"--hesmiled, dancing on tiptoe with his most birdlike air. But as Angelot followed him out of the room, his look became as sternand secret as that of any fierce Chouan among them all. Hélène waited; the time seemed long; and her situation almost toostrange to be realised. Those small hours of the morning, dark andweird, brought their own special chill and shiver, both physical andspiritual; the thought began to trouble her that Angelot's father andmother would be very angry, perhaps--would not receive them, possibly--and that Uncle Joseph, in his lonely house, might be theironly refuge; the thought of her own mother's indignation became athought of terror, now that Angelot's dear presence was not there tosend it away; all these ghosts crowded alarmingly upon her solitude, almost driving before them the one great certainty and wonder of thenight. She looked round the shadowy, firelit room; she noticed withcurious attention the quaint coverings of the furniture, thebright-coloured churches, windmills, farms, peasants at their work, allon a clear white ground, the ancient _perse_ that had been bought andarranged by Angelot's grandmother. She thought it much prettier thananything at Lancilly. It distracted her a little, as the minutes wenton; but surely these affairs took a long time to settle; and the windrose higher, and howled in the chimney and whistled in the shutters, andshe saw herself, white and solitary, in a great glass at the end of theroom. When Angelot at last opened the door, she sprang from the chair and ranto meet him; the only safe place was in his arms. "Don't leave me again, " she whispered, as soon as it was possible tospeak. Angelot was very pale, his eyes were burning. With broken words andpassionate kisses he put her back into the chair, and kneeling downbeside her, struggled for calmness to explain. He was in honour bound to go; he must ride away; the horse was alreadysaddled, and he had only a few minutes in which to say good-bye. He mustleave her in Uncle Joseph's care till he came back. Uncle Joseph said itwas his duty to go. That very morning he was to have started forEngland; his companion would be waiting for him and running a thousandrisks; he must meet him at the appointed place and send him on his wayalone. He did not tell her that Uncle Joseph, after all his chivalrouskindness to her, had cordially wished women, love affairs, and marriagesat the devil, even when perfectly well aware that it was not onlyHélène, with her soft hands, who was holding his nephew back and keepinghim in Anjou. "You know my father went to Paris, sweet?" said Angelot. "He has comeback--he has been here this very night, looking for me. He would havefound me at home, if you had not called me across the fields to see youdancing, you know! He saw all the authorities, even the Emperor himself. Nobody knew anything about that arrest of mine, and I think a certainSimon may get into hot water for it--though that is too much to expect, perhaps. Anyhow, they say it was a mistake. " "Monsieur des Barres told me so. He said he was sure of it, " said thegirl. "Hélène--how beautiful you are!" She had laid her hand on his head, and was looking down at him, smiling, though her eyes were wet. He took her hand and held it against his lips. "How I adore you!" he whispered. "Then you are free--free to be happy, " she said. "As far as I know--unless that clever father of mine has asked theEmperor for a commission for me--but I think, for my mother's sake, hewould not do that. He has not told Uncle Joseph so, at any rate; thedear uncle would not have received an officer of Napoleon's so nicely. " Hélène shuddered; the very word "officer" brought Ratoneau to her mind. But she felt safe at least, safe for ever now, from _him_. "I hate soldiers, " she said. "Must every one fight and kill?" Her bridegroom was still kneeling at her feet when Monsieur Joseph cameback, bringing Henriette with him. The child's dark eyes were full ofsleep, her cropped hair stood on end, her small figure was wrapped inher little flannel gown; she looked a strange and pathetic creature, roused out of sleep, brought down to take her part in these realities. But she was equal to the occasion. Riette never failed in the duties oflove; she was never called upon in vain. She went round to the back ofHélène's chair, took her face in her two small hands, leaned forward andkissed her forehead under the curls. "Go, mon petit!" she said to Angelot. "I will keep her safe till you areback in the morning. " She spoke slowly, sleepily. "Riette is always my friend, " said Angelot. "I told you long ago, " said the child, "that papa and I would help youto the last drop of our blood. " "Ah! we have not reached that point yet, " said Monsieur Joseph, laughingsoftly. "Now, my children, say good-bye. After all--for a few hours--itis not a tragedy. " * * * * * The Lancilly ball was the most brilliant, the most beautiful, for manyhours the most successful, that had taken place in that country-sidesince before the Revolution. Many people arriving late, the crowd ofguests went on increasing, and they danced with so much energy, themusic was so beautiful, the whole affair went with such a swing, strangely mixed as the company was from a political point of view, thatMadame de Sainfoy in the midst of her duties as hostess had no time togive more than an occasional thought to her own family. She watchedGeorges and his proceedings with satisfaction, but after missing Hélèneand sending Mademoiselle Moineau to look for her, she forgot her again;and she did not miss her husband till he failed to be in his place atsupper-time, to lead the oldest lady into the dining-room. When timewent on, and he did not appear, she began to be puzzled and anxious, while exerting herself to the full, in order that no one should be awareof his absence. She was passing through the inner salon, alone for the moment, on herway to find a servant that she might send in search of Monsieur deSainfoy, when General Ratoneau, having made his bow to the lady he hadbrought back from supper, and who was heartily glad to be rid of him, came to meet her with a swaggering air, partly owing to champagne. Smiling, he told her with an oath that her daughter was confoundedlypretty, the prettiest girl in Anjou, and the wildest and mostunmanageable; that she would not listen to a word of compliment, and hadrun away from him when he told her, in plain soldier fashion--"as Ialways speak, madame"--that she was to be his wife. "Ah, Monsieur le Général--you are so certain of that?" murmuredAdélaïde, considering him with her blue eyes a little coldly. "Certain, madame? I suppose it will not occur to you or to Monsieur deSainfoy to disobey the Emperor! Why, the order might have arrivedto-day--it certainly will to-morrow--ah, I mean yesterday or to-day, formidnight is long passed. Yes, but she is a detestable mixture, thatdaughter of yours, Madame la Comtesse, and it would take all my courageto venture on such a wife, without your encouragement. Cold as ice, asstately as an old queen of France--upon my soul, it needs a brave man toface the possibilities of such a ménage. But I suppose she is timid withit all--eh? I must be firm with her, I must show resolution, n'est-cepas?" "Apparently your compliments frightened her. Yes, she is timid enough, "said Madame de Sainfoy. "She not only ran away from you, but from theball. I understand her now. She is a mere child, Monsieur le Général, unaccustomed to--to--" Adélaïde broke off, a little absently. "I sent aperson to find her. I will send again, but--if you will forgive me--"with a dazzling smile--"I would advise you not to say much more toHélène till the affair is really decided beyond all question--yes, whatis it?" A servant came up to her, hesitating, glancing at the General, who saidquickly, his face darkening, "I consider it decided now. " "So do I--so it is, of course, " she said quickly. "Well?" to theservant. "Monsieur de la Marinière asks if he can see Madame la Comtesse for fiveminutes. " "Ask him to wait--" she was beginning, coldly, when Monsieur Urbain camehurrying impatiently across the room. "Ah--my very good friend, Monsieur de la Marinière, " Ratoneau said witha grin. He did not move away. Urbain came up and kissed Adélaïde's hand andlooked at her with an extraordinary expression. He was plainly dressedfor travelling, a strange-looking guest in those rooms. His square facewas drawn into hard lines, his mouth was set, his eyes were staring. Shegazed at him, fascinated, and her lips formed the words, "What is it, Urbain?" Then she suddenly said, turning white, "Something has happenedto Hervé!" "To Hervé? I don't know. Yes, he seems to have gone mad, " said Urbain. "You know nothing of it? I thought as much--but I have come straight toyou. Where is Hervé? He is here now, surely? I must speak to him. " "What are you talking about? Are you sure it is not _you_ who have gonemad? As to Hervé, I have not seen him for the last hour. I was lookingfor him. " "He looked devilish queer when I saw him last, " muttered the General. "Mademoiselle ran after him; they are a pretty pair. " Urbain and Adélaïde both looked at him vaguely; then again at eachother. "Where is he now? Do you know?" she said. "He left the château, madame, with your daughter and her husband, "Urbain said, slowly and indistinctly, grinding his teeth as he spoke. "Urbain!" she cried. "_What_ are you saying, monsieur?" growled the General, with his hand onhis sword. "Peace, peace, Monsieur le Général, you will know all presently, " Urbainsaid more calmly. "Some one has betrayed our plans, " he went on, lookingat Adélaïde, who was white and speechless. "These are my adventures. Iwent to Paris in search of my son, to find out where he was, and why hehad been arrested. I could hear nothing of him. I saw the Préfet de laPolice, I saw the Duc de Rovigo, I saw Réal and a dozen more officials. No one knew anything. Finally I saw Duroc, an old acquaintance, and heintroduced me to the Emperor. His Majesty was gracious. He gave me afree pardon for Angelot, in case he had been mixed up against his willwith any Chouan conspiracies. I pledged my honour for him in the future. But still the mystery remained--I could not find him. " Adélaïde seemed turned to stone. These two gazed at each other, speechless, and did not now give a look or a thought to the third personpresent. He stood transfixed, listening; the angry blood rushed into hisface, then ebbed as suddenly, leaving him a livid, deathlike yellow. "But mon Dieu, why all this story?" Adélaïde burst out with almost ascream. "What is he to me, your silly Angelot? What did you say justnow? My daughter and--I must have heard you wrongly. " Urbain gave a short, crackling laugh. "Nevertheless, I shall go on withmy story. I came home a few hours ago. My wife told me that Angelot wassafe with his uncle at Les Chouettes. " The General started violently, but neither of them noticed him. "We went there together, and found thatthe boy was gone to La Marinière, to see his mother--Joseph had plannedto pack him off out of the way of the police--with his usualdiscretion--but enough of that. " "Urbain, you will madden me! What do I care for all this?" Adélaïde made a few steps and let herself fall into a chair. "Patience!" he said; and there was something solemn, almost awful, inthe way he stretched out his right hand to her. "We hastened back to LaMarinière, and found no Angelot there. Then I began to think thatJoseph's fears of the police might not be exaggerated--Angelot escapedfrom them on the very day he was arrested--the man who arrested him, why, I cannot discover, was that fellow Simon, the spy, and according toJoseph he has been watching the woods ever since. I went out, for Icould not rest indoors, and as I walked down the road I met Monsieur leCuré and Martin Joubard, coming from Lancilly. I turned back with theold man, and he told me his story. " He stopped and drew a long breath. "I hardly listened to the details, " he said. "But by some means Hervéhad heard of the expected order--and--distrusting all the world, itseems, even you, his wife, he sent for the Curé at midnight and forcedhim to celebrate the marriage. Ah, Monsieur le Général, you may welltake it hardly; yet I do not believe you are more angry than I am. " "As to that, monsieur, " said Ratoneau, glaring at him with savage fury, "I believe you have played me false and arranged the whole affair. Yourscamp of a son has escaped the prison he richly deserved, and you haveplotted to marry him to your cousin's daughter. I always thought you asclever as the devil, monsieur. But look here--and you too, madame, listen to me. I will ruin the whole set of you--and as to that boy ofyours, let him beware how he meets me. I swear I will be his death. " Urbain shrugged his shoulders and turned from him to Adélaïde, who wasbeckoning feebly and could hardly find voice to speak. "I am very stupid, I suppose, " she said. "I cannot understand clearly. My husband has forced on Hélène's marriage with some one. Who is it, Urbain? Did the Curé tell you? Do not be afraid to tell me--I can bearit--you were always my friend. " There was something so unnatural in her manner, so terrible and stony inher look, that Urbain turned pale and hesitated. "Mon Dieu!" he murmured. "You do not understand!" "Mille tonnerres, Madame la Comtesse, " roared the General, striding upto her chair--"they have married this man's son to your daughter. Mycongratulations on the splendid match. Ange de la Marinière and Hélènede Sainfoy--a pretty couple--but by all that's sacred their happinessshall not last long!" "Hush, hush! Go away, for God's sake, " cried Urbain. "You brute, you arekilling her. " Adélaïde's eyelids had dropped, and she lay back unconscious. There were people in the room, a confusion of voices, of wonderingexclamations. Then, through the thickening crowd, Hervé de Sainfoy andGeorges pushed their way, white and excited, followed by MademoiselleMoineau, whose trembling limbs could hardly carry her. The Comte de Sainfoy and General Ratoneau met face to face, andexchanged a few low words as Ratoneau walked out. "You are a pretty host, Monsieur le Comte!" "I have taught you a lesson, I hope, Monsieur le Général. I shall haveno more interference with my family affairs. " "Sapristi! it is a new thing for you, is it not, to pose as the head ofyour own family? How did His Majesty's intention come to your knowledge?I am curious to know that. " "Let me ask you to leave my house. You shall hear from me. We willsettle our affairs another day. " "Ah! You had better consult Madame la Comtesse. She is not pleased withyou. " Ratoneau went out, snarling. Scarcely knowing which way he turned, hefound himself in an outer vestibule at the foot of the great staircase. The autumn wind was blowing in, fresh and cool across the valley; greylight was beginning to glimmer, a shiver of dawn to pass over the worldoutside. A group of men were standing in the doorway, and Ratoneau foundhimself surrounded by them. One of them was Simon, with his head boundup; the others were some of the police employed to watch Chouanproceedings in the province generally. "What, fool!" the General began furiously to Simon. "And all this timeyou--" he checked himself, remembering the presence of the others, whowere looking at him curiously. "We have something to report to Monsieur le Général, " Simon saidhurriedly, with an eager sign of caution. "To save time--as Monsieur lePréfet is not here. A new conspiracy has been hatched at LesChouettes--_Les Chouettes_, monsieur! Some of the gentlemen are probablythere now. Some are to meet at the Étang des Morts, to start for Englandthis very morning. They will be caught easily. But Les Chouettes shouldbe searched, monsieur--important arrests can be made there. " He came forward, almost pushing the General back against the stairs. "There are enough of us, " he said, "but not enough authority. IfMonsieur le Général would go himself"--he came up closer and muttered inRatoneau's ear--"I know all--they are there--we can at least arrest themen--safe this time--the police have real evidence, and I have seennightly visitors to Monsieur de la Marinière. But _they are there_, monsieur--I saw them on their way--I met the priest going back. And onmy word, Monsieur le Comte managed it neatly. " "Did he give you that broken head, fool? And why did you not come to mesooner?" "That was a gentleman with a wooden leg. Yes, he delayed me half anhour. " "More fool you! Come, we must have these Chouans. Say nothing. Get me ahorse--one that will carry double, mind you. Four of you fellows go onand watch the house. I and Simon will overtake you. " He swore between his teeth as he turned away, "I will be the death ofhim, and I will have her yet!" CHAPTER XXVII HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH WENT OUT INTO THE DAWN At Les Chouettes, in those early hours of the morning, they were waitingfor Angelot's return. Monsieur Joseph, the softest-hearted, mostopen-natured man who ever posed as a dark and hard conspirator, couldnot now forgive himself for having sent the boy away. "Why did I not gomyself?" he muttered. Faithfulness to the cause, honour towards Césard'Ombré, a touch of severity, really born of love, towards Angelot'slight-hearted indifference; these had led him into something likecruelty towards the girl who had been thrown with such wild andpassionate haste into Angelot's arms. Monsieur Joseph regarded Hervé deSainfoy's sudden action as a great embarrassment for the family, thoughhe himself had once suggested such a marriage, out of indulgence for hisnephew. He saw that the situation would be terribly awkward for Urbainand Anne, that they would hardly welcome such a daughter-in-law; yet, though he said sharp words about women to Angelot, he was heartily sorryfor Hélène. "Pauvre petite!" he said to himself. "No, it was not right of Hervé. Ange is too young for such responsibility; there might have been otherways of saving her. But in the meanwhile, she is dreadfully frightenedand lonely, and I have sent her little lover away. God grant he fallinto no traps--but the police may be anywhere. Well, Riette must do herbest--the woman-child--she seemed to me just now older than Angelot'swife--Angelot's wife--what an absurdity!" The child had led the girl away to her own room above; the house wasstill. Monsieur Joseph went back to his room, walked up and down itslength, from the west to the east window and back again; rathernervously examined his arms, and laid a sword and a pair of pistols onthe table. He knew of no special danger; but for the last fortnight hehad been living in a state of watchfulness which had sharpened all hissenses and kept him unusually sleepless. Now he longed for the night tobe over; for his present charge weighed upon him heavily. It was certainthat in sending Angelot away to keep the tryst with César he had madehimself responsible for Hélène. He thought over all the foolish littlelove-story, in which at first he had had some part, though nobody wasmore angry with Angelot when he took things into his own hands andclimbed the old ivy-tree to visit his love. "And now--is the fellow rewarded or punished? we shall see!" hethought. "In any case, I must stand by him now. He has not always beengrateful or wise--but there, he is young, and I love the boy. Riettetalks of 'the last drop of our blood. ' Verily, I believe she would giveit for Angelot--and I--well, I told Hervé and his mother that I wouldcut off my right hand for him. That was saying something! But Anne knewI meant it--and God knows the same. " Monsieur Joseph glanced up at the Crucifix hanging over his bed, and, presently, seeing a glimmer of dawn through the shutters, knelt down andsaid his morning prayers. He had scarcely finished when all the dogs began to bark, and there wasa frightful growling and snarling outside his window. He opened it, andpushed back the shutters. The woods were grey and misty in a pale, unearthly dawn, and the house threw a shadow from the waning moon, whichhad risen behind the buildings and trees to the east. The howling windof the night had gone down; the air was cold and still. Monsieur Joseph saw a man with his head tied up, armed with a policecarbine, making a short cut over the grass from the western wood. It wasthis man, Simon, whom the dogs were welcoming after their manner. Monsieur Joseph's voice silenced them. He stepped out, unarmed as hewas, and met Simon in the sandy square. "Ah no, no, my friend!" he said. "Your tricks are over, your work isdone. " "Pardon, monsieur!" said Simon, respectfully enough. "Do you understand me? Come, now, what authority had you for arrestingmy nephew? You are going to find it was a serious mistake. Be off withyou, and let him alone in the future. " "I know all about that, monsieur, " Simon answered coolly. "Your nephewis lucky enough to have a loyal father, who can pull him out of hisscrapes. Your nephew has plenty of friends--but even his connectionswon't save him, I think, if he is mixed up in this new plot of yours. Imust search your house at once, if you please. " "What do you mean, you scoundrel? You will not search my house, " saidMonsieur Joseph, fiercely. "By order, monsieur. " "Whose order? The Prefect's? Show it me. " "Pardon! There has not been time to apply to Monsieur le Préfet. We haveintelligence of a plot, hatched here in your house, a plan for a rising. We know that certain gentlemen are starting this very morning on amission to England, to bring back arms and men. They will be caught--arecaught already, no doubt--at their rendezvous. There was not time to goto Sonnay for orders and warrants; we had to strike while the iron washot. We applied to General Ratoneau, who was at the ball at Lancilly. Henot only gave us authority to search your house for arms andconspirators--he accompanied us himself. He is there, beyond the wood, with enough men to enter your house by force, if you refuse to let usenter peaceably. " For a moment Monsieur Joseph said nothing. Simon grinned as well as hisstiff and aching head would let him, as he watched the littlegentleman's expressive face. "We have got them, Monsieur le Général!" he said to himself. He addedaloud and insolently: "An unpleasant experience for the young gentleman, so soon after his wedding, but a final warning, I imagine. If he comesfree and happy out of this, he will have done with Chouannerie!" "Silence!" said Monsieur Joseph. "If you want conspirators, there is onehere, and that is myself. I will go to Sonnay with you--though youraccusations are ridiculous, and there is no plan for a rising. But Iwill not allow you to search my house, if there were ten generals and anarmy behind the wood there. I will shoot down any one who attempts it. " "So much the worse for you, monsieur, " said Simon. "Go back to General Ratoneau and tell him what I say, " said MonsieurJoseph. "He will not doubt my word. Wait. I will speak to him myself. Tell him I will meet him in ten minutes under the old oaks up there. Iwish for a private word with him. " "Ten minutes, monsieur, "--Simon hesitated. "Do as you are told, " said Monsieur Joseph; and he stepped back into hisroom, pulled the shutters sharply to, and shut the window. Simon lingered a minute or two, looking round the house, giving thegrowling dogs a wide berth, then went back with his message to the wood, and took the precaution of sending a man to watch the lanes on the otherside. He did not, of course, for a moment suppose that there was any onethere, except, most probably, Ange de la Marinière and his bride; but itwould not do to let him once again escape the General. What his plansmight be, Simon only half guessed; but he knew they were desperate, andhe knew that the man who balked him would repent it. And besides allthis, he had not yet received a sou for all the dirty work he had latelydone. But in the bitter depths of his discontented mind, Simon began tosuspect that he had made a mistake in committing himself, body and soul, to General Ratoneau. Monsieur Joseph took a small pistol from a cabinet, loaded it, then ranlightly upstairs and called Riette, who came flying to meet him. He tookher in his arms and kissed her shaggy pate. "Your hair wants brushing, mademoiselle, " he said. "You are a contrastto your beautiful cousin. " "Oh, papa, isn't it glorious to think that Hélène has married Angelot?They do love each other so. She has been telling me that if only hewere back safe from the Étang des Morts, she would be the very happiestwoman in the world. " "I hope she will be, and soon, " said Monsieur Joseph. But he trembled ashe spoke, for if Simon was right, Angelot and César might be even now inthe hands of the police. "Listen, Riette, " he said. "There are some men outside, police andofficials--General Ratoneau is with them. Once again there are fanciesin these people's heads about me and my friends. They want to search thehouse. There is no reason for it, and I will not have it done. I amgoing out now to speak to the General. Look at the clock. If I am notback in ten minutes, go out at the back with your cousin, take the pathbehind the stables, and make all the haste you can to La Marinière. Itwill be light, you cannot lose your way. Only keep in the shelter of thetrees, that those people over in the wood may not see you. " Riette gazed at him with dark large eyes which seemed to read somethingbehind his words. "Why do you think you will not come back, papa? Because General Ratoneauis a wicked man?" "Because Imperial justice may carry me to Sonnay. But the Prefect is myfriend, " said Monsieur Joseph, gravely. "Go back, and do as I tell you. Remember, Angelot's wife is in your care. Take this pistol, and defendher if necessary. " He left her without another word and ran downstairs. In the ground-floorrooms he found the servants waiting, the two men armed, Marie wildlyexcited, all talking at once, for they had heard from an upper windowtheir master's conversation with Simon. Before he could give them any orders, two tall shadows came across thewhite sand in that unearthly light of moon and dawn, and old Joubard andhis son, pushing at the window, were immediately let in by Gigot. Theyexplained that Monsieur Angelot, on his way to the Étang des Morts, hadstopped at La Joubardière. He had found Martin, not long returned fromLancilly, busy telling his father the events of the night. He had beggedthem both to go down to Les Chouettes, to watch quietly about there tillhis return. They understood very well that his greatest treasure in lifewas there, and they had started off, Joubard with his gun, not intendingto go to the house or disturb Monsieur Joseph. But coming down theyfound the man Simon had just sent to keep the eastern road, who toldthem the place was besieged by police and the house to be searchedimmediately. They took the liberty of depriving him of his carbine, tying him to a tree, and setting a dog to watch him there. Old Joubardexplained this to Monsieur Joseph with an air of apology. "Thank you. You could not have done better, Joubard. Listen, I am goingout to speak to General Ratoneau. I have told Mademoiselle Henriette, ifI am not back in ten minutes, to take Madame Ange to La Marinière. Ifthe General insists on my going off to Sonnay, this will not be a placefor ladies. Perhaps, Marie, you had better go with them. The police willtry to insist on searching the house. I will not have it searched, without a warrant from Monsieur le Préfet. You four men, I leave it inyour care. Defend the house, as you know I should defend it. " Tobie chuckled. "Spoil their beauty, eh!" and went on loading his gun. Old Joubard's face had lengthened slightly. "Anything within the law, "he muttered. "But I am not a Chouan, dear little monsieur, nor isMartin--no!" "Chouan or not, you are my friends, all of you, " said Monsieur Joseph;and he turned and left them. He went back to his room, wrote a short letter to his brother Urbain, and left it on the table. Then he took his sword, crossed himself, andwent out into the slowly lightening day. Ratoneau was waiting for him under the trees, just out of sight of thehouse, and they were practically alone. A groom held the General's horseat some little distance; Simon waited in the background, skulking behindthe trees, and the other men were watching the house from variouspoints. The road which passed Les Chouettes on the north crept onwestward, and skirted that same wood of tall oaks, chestnuts, and firswhere Monsieur Joseph's Chouan friends had been hidden from the Prefectand the General. The wood, with little undergrowth, but thickly carpetedwith dead leaves, sloped down to the south; on its highest edge a lineof old oaks, hollow and enormous, stood like grim sentinels. It wasunder one of these, hidden from the house by a corner of the wood, thatMonsieur Joseph met the General. Ratoneau was considerably cooler than when he had left Lancilly. Hismanner was less violent, but even more insolent than usual. He looked athis watch as Monsieur Joseph came up, walking over the rough grass withthe light step of a boy. "What do you mean, monsieur, by keeping an Imperial officer waiting?" hesaid. "Ten minutes? I have been standing here twenty, and you had noright to ask for one. You forget who you are, monsieur, and who I am. " "Kindly enlighten me on these points, Monsieur le Général, " saidMonsieur Joseph, smiling cheerfully. "I will enlighten you so far--that you are twice a traitor, and theworst of a whole band of traitors. " "Et puis, monsieur? Once--it is possible from your point of view, buthow twice?" said Monsieur Joseph, with that air of happy curiositywhich had often, in earlier years, misled his enemies to their undoing. Ratoneau stared at him, muttered an oath, and stammered out: "Notcontent with plotting against His Majesty's government--why you--you, monsieur--are aiding and abetting that nephew of yours in thisscandalous affair of his marriage. Sapristi! you look as innocent as anew-born child! You laugh, monsieur! Do you suppose the Emperor will notlearn the truth about this marriage? Yes, I can tell you, you willbitterly repent this night's work--Monsieur de Sainfoy and all of you. And to begin with, that accursed nephew of yours will spend hishoneymoon in prison. I have not yet seen my way through the ins and outsof the affair--I do not know how Monsieur de Sainfoy heard of theEmperor's intention--but at least I can have my revenge on your nephewand I will--I will!" "Ah!" Monsieur Joseph laughed slightly. "I would not be too sure, monsieur. You can prove nothing against Ange. His father, let me tellyou, has set him right with the Emperor. He is in no danger at all, unless from your personal malice. The prize you intended to have hasbeen given to him. It is no doing of his family. I do not believe theEmperor will punish him or them. And--unless he values your servicesmore highly than I should think probable, I fancy he will see excusesfor Monsieur de Sainfoy!" "No doing of his family! The intrigue has been going on for weeks, "cried Ratoneau. "When have I not seen that odious boy pushing himself atLancilly? Detestable little hound! as insolent as yourself, and far moreof a fool. I have always hated him--always--since the day I first sawhim in your house, the day when we met a herd of cattle in the lane, andhe dared to laugh at my horse's misbehaviour. Little scum of the earth!if I had him under my heel--What are we losing time for? What do youwant to say to me? It is my duty to arrest you, and to search your housefor conspirators and arms, in the name of the Emperor. " "Yes; I know all that, " said Monsieur Joseph, gently, with his head alittle on one side. He was wondering, as he wondered on first acquaintance with this man, for how long he would be able to refrain from striking him in the face. He was afraid that it would not, at this juncture, be a wise thing todo. The two girls in the house were much on his mind; perhaps apresentiment of something of this sort had made him arrange for theirescape. "I told that police fellow, " he went on very mildly, "that I was readyto go with you to Sonnay, where the Prefect, of course, is the rightperson to deal with any suspected conspiracy. I also told him, and Itell you, that I will not have my house searched without the Prefect'swarrant. " "And pray, how are you going to prevent it?" said Ratoneau, staring athim. "Try it, and you will see, " said Monsieur Joseph. "Your nephew is shut up there, I know. He is taking care of his bride, and is afraid to come out and face me, " said Ratoneau, with a frightfulgrin. "He will not dare to resist by force--miserable little coward!" "All this shall be paid for by and by, " Monsieur Joseph said to himself, consolingly. Aloud he said, "It happens that my nephew is not there, Monsieur le Général. " "Not there! where are they gone then? I believe that is a lie. " Monsieur Joseph bowed politely, with his hand on his sword. "Allow me to remark, Monsieur le Général Ratoneau, that you are a cheatand a coward. " Ratoneau turned purple, and almost choked. "Monsieur! You dare to use such words to me! I shall call my men up, and--" "Call the whole of the usurper's army, " said Monsieur Joseph, withunearthly coolness. "As they follow him they may follow you, hispasteboard image. But I am quite of your opinion, my words needexplanation. I see through you, Monsieur le Général. You tried to cheatthe Comte de Sainfoy out of his daughter, whom he had refused you. And Iam sure now, that my nephew's arrest the other day was a scoundrellypiece of cheating, a satisfaction of your private spite, a means ofgetting him out of your way. Yes, I see through you now. A fine specimenof an Imperial officer, bribing police spies to carry out his privatemalice. Coward and cheat! Defend yourself!" Both swords were out, and the fight began instantly. The steel clashedand darted lightly, flashing back the rising day. It was no ordinaryduel, no mere satisfaction of honour, though each might have had theright to demand this of the other. It was a quarrel of life and death, personal hatred that must slay or be slain. Monsieur Joseph, with all his grace and amiability, had the passionatenature of old France; his instincts were primitive and simple; helonged, and his longing had become irresistible, to send a villain outof the world. Perhaps, too, in Ratoneau's overbearing swagger, he sawand felt an incarnation of that Empire which had crushed his nativecountry under its iron feet. But all mixed motives were fused togetherand flamed up in the fighting rage that drew that slight hand to thesword-hilt, and darted like lightning along the living blade. Monsieur Joseph was a splendid swordsman. But Ratoneau, too, had perfectcommand of his weapon; and besides this, he was a taller and heavierman. And the fury of disappointment, of revenge, the dread of beingfound out, of probable disgrace, if Joseph de la Marinière could provehis keen suspicions true; all this added to his caution, while he neverlacked the bull-dog courage of a fighting soldier. Though foaming withrage, he was at that moment the cooler, the more self-possessed of thetwo. Simon tried at first to interfere. He stepped out from among the trees, exclaiming, "Messieurs--messieurs!" but then withdrew again, for thevery sight of the two men's faces, the sound of their breath, the quickclash of the swords, showed that this was a quarrel past mending. Simonwatched. He was conscious, in the depths of his mind, of a knowledgethat he would not mourn very deeply if General Ratoneau should be theone to fall. He hastily made his own plans. In that case he would slipaway behind the trees, take the horse from the groom without a word, andride away to Paris, trusting that he might never be called to accountfor any dark doings in Anjou. For there was not only the false arrest ofAngelot; there were also certain dealings with the Prefect's secretary;there were tamperings with papers and seals, all to set forward thatmarriage affair that had failed so dismally, he hardly understood how. But he had hoped that the Prefect would die, and the news of his rapidrecovery seemed strangely inopportune. It appeared to Simon that GeneralRatoneau's star was on the wane; and so, for those entangled in hisrascally deeds, a lucky thrust of Monsieur de la Marinière's swiftlyflashing sword--Ah, no! the fortune of war was on the wrong side thatmorning. A few passes; a fight three or four minutes long; a low cry, then silence, and the slipping down of a light body on the grass. General Ratoneau had run his adversary through the heart, had withdrawnhis sword and stood, white but unmoved, looking at him as he lay. [Illustration: "MONSIEUR LE GÉNÉRAL, YOU HAVE KILLED HIM!"] Monsieur Joseph turned himself once, and stretched his slight limbs, asif composing himself to sleep. His face was towards his house and therising dawn, and he gazed that way with dark eyes wide open. His lipsmoved, but no one heard what he said. All the fighting fury was gonefrom his face, and as a thin thread of blood trickled down from his sideand began to redden the grass beneath, his look, at first startled andpainful, became every moment more peaceful, more satisfied. His eyelidsslowly drooped and fell; he died smiling, his whole attitude andexpression so lifelike that the two witnesses, Ratoneau and Simon, couldscarcely believe that he was dead. The General stood immovable. Simon, after a minute, knelt down and feltthe pulse and examined the wound. It had been almost instantly fatal, the pulse was still. "Mon Dieu, Monsieur le Général, you have killed him!" Simon said, underhis breath. Ratoneau glared at him for a moment before he spoke. "He tried to kill me, " he said. "You were there, you can bear witness, he challenged and attacked me, the little fighting-cock. I wish it hadbeen his nephew. But now for him! Come, leave the body there; theservants will fetch it in presently. " He started to walk towards the house, carrying his drawn sword in hishand. In the middle of the slope he turned round with a furious look tohis follower. "Those who insult me, and stand in my way--you see the lessons I teachthem!" he said hoarsely, and walked on. The western front of Les Chouettes, the tower rising into the slowlylightening sky, presented a lifeless face to the woods where its masterlay. All the windows were closed and shuttered; dead silence reigned. When the General shouted an order to open, beating with his sword-hiltat a window, he was only answered by the growling and barking of thedogs, whom the defenders had called in. He walked round by the south tothe east front; the same chorus accompanied him, but of human voicesthere were none. He whistled up the rest of the gendarmes, and orderedthem to force the dining-room window. Then the shutters of a windowabove it were pushed open, and a white-haired man looked out into thecourt. "Now, old Chouan, do you hear me?" shouted Ratoneau, in his mostoverbearing tones. "Come down and open some of these windows. " "Pardon, monsieur, " old Joubard answered quietly. "I have Monsieur dela Marinière's orders to keep them shut. " "Have you, indeed? Well, it makes no difference to him whether they areshut or open. Tell his nephew, Monsieur Ange, with my compliments, tocome down and speak to me. Tell him I want to see his pretty wife, andto congratulate him on his marriage. Tell him to bring a sword, if heknows how to use one, and to revenge his uncle. " There was a dead pause. The two Joubards and the servants, all togetherin that upper room, looked strangely at each other. "Tiens, Maître Joubard, let me come to the window and I'll shoot thatman dead!" groaned Tobie in the background. "No, you fool, Tobie, " Joubard said angrily. "Do you want us all to bemassacred? Anyhow, let us first know what he means. " "I wonder where the master is!" said Gigot, and his teeth chattered. "He has killed him, " Martin whispered, looking at his father. "This will be the ruin of us all, " said old Joubard aside to him. "You, at least, keep out of the way. Those men have carbines. You have notcome home from Spain to be shot by mistake for a Chouan. I will try tospeak civilly. Monsieur le Général, " he said, leaning out of the window, "your worship is mistaken. There are no Chouans here, and no ladies. AndMonsieur Angelot is not here. Only we, a few harmless servants andneighbours, taking care of the house, left in charge while Monsieur dela Marinière went to speak to you, waiting till he comes back. We can donothing without his orders, Monsieur le Général. " "Then you will do nothing till doomsday, " said Ratoneau. "Don't youunderstand that he is dead, old fool, whoever you may be?" "Dead! Impossible!" old Joubard stammered. "Monsieur Josephdead--murdered! And the gendarmes on your side, monsieur! Why, he washere giving us our orders, a quarter of an hour ago. " In the horrified look he turned on Martin, there was yet the shadow of asmile. For Martin's eager persuasions had sent Hélène and Riette awaywith Marie Gigot through the woods to La Marinière, almost beforeMonsieur Joseph's appointed time. Joubard leaned again out of the window, his rugged face in the fulllight of the morning. "This is a bad business, Monsieur le Général, " he said. "If it is truethat you have killed Monsieur Joseph, you have done enough for one day. Take my advice, draw your men off and go away. Justice will follow you;and you have no right here. I am not a Chouan. I am Joubard, of LaJoubardière, Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière's best tenant, and my onlyson lost his limbs fighting for the Emperor. " Simon drew near, with his bandaged head, and looked up at the window. "Ah! He has limbs enough left to do some mischief, " he growled savagely. "Is he there, your precious cripple of a son? I shall have something tosay to him, one of these days. " "Begone with you all, " cried old Joubard, "for a pack of thieves andmurderers! You are a disgrace to the Emperor, his police and his army!" "Silence, old fool!" shouted Ratoneau. "What do you say about murder, you idiot? Did you never hear of a man being killed in a duel? Comedown, some of you, I say, or I force my way in. " He would have done so, and easily, but for a sudden interruption. There was a wild howl of pain from among the trees beyond the kitchen, where one of Monsieur Joseph's faithful dogs followed him to the landwhere all faithfulness is perhaps rewarded; and then the gendarme whomJoubard had tied to a tree came running down to the house with thecomrade who had freed him and killed his guard. He was eager to tell theGeneral what he had seen while every one but himself was away in thewestern wood. He had seen two women and a child escape from the house, and hurry away by the footpath under the trees towards La Marinière. Oneof the women was dressed in white; he could see it under her cloak; shespoke, and it was a lady's voice; they had passed quite near him. Howlong ago? Well, perhaps a quarter of an hour. General Ratoneau stampedhis foot and ground his teeth. "Bring my horse!" he said; and then he looked up again at the window, atold Joubard's stern face watching him. "Monsieur Ange de la Marinière!" he shouted in tones of thunder. "Comeout of your hole, little coward, if you are there. I will teach you tomarry against the Emperor's commands! You shall meet me before you seeyour wife again. I will give account of you, and I will have what is myown. What! you dare not come out? Then follow me to Sonnay, monsieur, byway of La Marinière. " He flung himself into the saddle and rode off at a furious pace, turninground to shout back to Simon, "I shall overtake her! Go on--shoot themall--burn the house, if you must. " His horse plunged down into the shadows of the narrow lane, and theyheard the heavy thud of its hoofs as it galloped away. CHAPTER XXVIII HOW GENERAL RATONEAU MET HIS MATCH Within and without Les Chouettes the men all listened till those soundsdied away. Then Simon turned to the little group of gendarmes and said:"Come along, fellows, make a rush for that window. If there are anyChouan gentlemen here, we must not let them escape. " Then the oldest of the gendarmes, a man well accustomed to hunting thissort of game, hung back and looked at him queerly. "There are none--I'll answer for that, " he said. "Certainly not MonsieurAnge de la Marinière, or he would have been out long ago--and none of usever felt sure that he was mixed up in Chouannerie--" "What are you talking about?" cried Simon. "Hold your tongue, and doyour duty. The General ordered us to break into the house and search it. Why, you know yourself that it is the headquarters of this plot. " "If so, if I hear rightly, the master of it has paid for his Chouanneriewith his life, " said the man gravely, still holding back, and watchingSimon with a dogged steadiness. "Our mates have caught the othergentlemen--they could not fail--and as for me, Monsieur Simon, I don'tfeel inclined to take any more orders from that General of yours. To me, he seems like a madman. There's private malice behind all this. It isnot the sort of justice that suits me--to kill a gentleman and shoot hisservants and burn his house down. I tell you, fellows, I don't likeit--there are limits to what the police ought to do, and we shall findourselves in the wrong box, if we go further without the Prefect'swarrant. " "Obey your orders, or you'll pay for it!" shouted Simon. "Come on, men!"and he ran towards the house. "Be off, or we fire!" cried a voice from the window above. "All right, Maître Joubard, don't fire; we know you are a loyal man, "said the spokesman of the gendarmes. "I am going straight back toSonnay, to see what Monsieur le Préfet says to all this. Do you agree?"he turned to his comrades, who had drawn up behind him, and whoanswered, even the man who had been tied to the tree, by a quick murmurof assent. "Come, Monsieur Simon, I advise you to cast in your lot withus; you have had too much to do with that madman. Everybody hates him. They sent him down here because they could not stand him in the army. " As Simon turned his back and walked sulkily away, the gendarme added:"Come down, some of you, and look for your master. He may be stillalive. " The men in the room above looked at each other. They could not and didnot believe that Monsieur Joseph was dead. To his old servants, it wasone of those shocks too heavy for the brain to bear; the thought stunnedthem. Large tears were rolling down old Joubard's cheeks, but his brainand Martin's were active enough. "What do you think?" he said to his son. "Are they safe at LaMarinière?" "I'll wager my wooden leg they are, " Martin said cheerfully. "They had agood start, and that lumbering brute with his big horse would not knowthe shortest path. And once with Monsieur Urbain--" "Ah, poor man! Well, let us go down and look for him, the little uncle. Ah, Martin, all the pretty girls in the world will take long to comfortMonsieur Angelot--and as to Mademoiselle Henriette!" "The gendarme said he might be still alive, " said Martin. "See, they aregone round to him. " "He is dead, " said Joubard. "Come, Gigot, you and I must carry him in. As to you, Tobie, just keep watch on this side with your gun--thatpoisonous snake of a Simon is prowling about there. Don't shoot, ofcourse, but keep him off; don't let him get into the house. " Martin lingered a moment behind his father. "Tobie, " he said, "thatSimon has been Monsieur Angelot's enemy all through. I thought I hadfinished him with my stick, two or three hours ago, but--" "I know--I have my master's orders, " said Tobie. He smiled, and liftedhis gun to his shoulder. The sun was rising when they found Monsieur Joseph on his bed of softgrass and leaves, at the foot of his own old oak just bronzed by the sunof August and September. Up above the squirrels were playing; they didnot disturb his sleep, though they scampered along the boughs andsqueaked and peeped down curiously. The birds cried and chirped abouthim in the opening day; and one long ray of yellow sunshine pierced theeastern screen of trees, creeping all along up the broad slope where theautumn crocuses grew, till it laid itself softly and caressingly on thesmiling face turned to meet it once more. The sportsman had gone out forthe last time into his loved fields and woods; and perhaps he would havechosen to die there, rather than in a curtained room with fresh air anddaylight shut out. No doubt the manner of his death had been terrible;but the pain was momentary, and he had gone to meet it in his highestmood, all one flame of indignation against evil, and ready, generousself-sacrifice. He had died for Angelot, fighting his enemy; he hadcarried out his little daughter's words, and the last drop of that goodheart's blood was for Angelot, though indeed his dear boy's enemy wasalso the enemy of the cause he loved, to which his life had been given. No more conspiracies now for the little Royalist gentleman. They all came and stood about him, Joubard, Martin, Gigot, and the partyof gendarmes. At first they hardly liked to touch him; he lay sopeacefully asleep under the tree, his thin right hand pressed over hisheart, where the sword had wounded him, such a look of perfect contenton the face that death had marked for its own. His sword lay on thegrass beside him, where it had fallen from his dying hand. Martin pickedit up, saying in a low voice, "This will be for Monsieur Angelot. " Sturdy Gigot, choking with sobs, turned upon him fiercely. "It belongs to mademoiselle. " They lifted Monsieur Joseph--old Joubard at his head, Gigot at hisfeet--and carried their light burden down to his house, in at his ownbedroom window. They laid him on his bed in the alcove, and then wereafraid to touch him any more. All the group of strong men stood andlooked at him, Gigot weeping loudly, Joubard silently; even the eyes ofthe gendarmes were wet. "We must have women here, " said Joubard. Turning round, he saw Monsieur Joseph's letter to his brother lying onthe table; he took it up and gave it to Gigot. "Take this letter to La Marinière, " he said, "and tell Monsieur Urbainwhat has happened. And you, " to the gendarmes, "be off to Sonnay, andmake your report at once to Monsieur le Préfet. I doubt if he willjustify all that is done in his name. " "We will do as you say, Maître Joubard, " said the gendarme. A few minutes later the only one of the General's party left at LesChouettes was Simon. He skulked round behind the buildings, but couldnot persuade himself to go away. It seemed to him that there was a gooddeal of danger in escaping on foot; that the country people, enraged byMonsieur Joseph's death, delighted, as they probably would be, byMonsieur Angelot's marriage, would all be his enemies. He was halfterrified by General Ratoneau's desperation. Suppose he had overtakenAngelot's young bride and her companions! suppose he had swung her up onhis horse and carried her away, forgetting that he was not campaigningin a foreign country, but living peaceably in France, where the lawprotected people from such violent doings. It might be veryinconvenient, in such a case, to appear at Sonnay as a friend andfollower of General Ratoneau. Any credit he still had with the Prefect, for instance, would be lost for ever. And yet, if he deserted theGeneral entirely, washed his hands, as far as possible, of him and hisdoings, what chance was there of receiving the large sums of money sogrudgingly promised him! "A hard master, the devil!" Simon muttered to himself. He peeped cautiously round the corner of the kitchen wall, where thesilver birches had scattered their golden leaves in the wind of thenight. He watched the little band of gendarmes as they started down theroad towards Sonnay. It struck him that his best plan would be to slipaway across the _landes_ towards the Étang des Morts, and to put himselfright with the authorities by helping to capture a few Chouan gentlemenand conveying them to prison. But first--how still all the place was! The men were busy, he supposed, with their dead master. Surely those windows were not so firmly fastenedbut that he could make his way in, and perhaps find some evidence toprove Monsieur Joseph's complicity in the plots of the moment. He walkedlightly across the sand. A dog barked in the house, and Martin Joubardlooked out from an upper window. All the evil passions of his nature rose in Simon then. That was the manwho knew he had arrested Angelot; that was the man who had knocked himdown in the park and lost him half an hour of valuable time. As Angelothimself, in some mysterious way, was out of reach, here was this man onwhom he might revenge himself. Both for his own sake and the General's, this man would be better out of the way; Simon raised his loaded carbineand fired. Martin stepped back at the instant, and he missed him. The shot grazedTobie's cheek as he knelt inside the room, resting his long gun-barrelon the low window-sill. "Ah, Chouan-catcher, your time is come!" muttered Tobie, and his gunwent off almost of itself. Simon flung up his arms in the air, and dropped upon the sand. * * * * * While these things were happening at Les Chouettes, Angelot was hurryingback from his mission to the Étang des Morts. He was full of wildhappiness, a joy that could not be believed in, till he saw and touchedHélène again. His heart was as light as the air of that gloriousmorning, so keen, clear, and still on the high moorlands as he crossedthem. He had done all and more than the little uncle expected of him. In thedarkness before dawn, as he rode through the deep lanes beyond LaJoubardière, he had met a friendly peasant who warned him that a partyof police and gendarmes was watching the country a little farther south, towards the Étang des Morts. He therefore left his horse in a shed, tookto the fields and woods, and intercepted César d'Ombré on his way to therendezvous. Explanations were not altogether easy, for César caredlittle for the private affairs of young La Marinière. He had neverexpected much from the son of Urbain. He took his warning, and gave uphis companionship easily enough. Striking off across country, avoidingall roads likely to be patrolled by the police, he made his way alone toBrittany and the coast, while Angelot returned by the way he had come. For the sake of taking the very shortest cut across the _landes_, hebrought his horse up to La Joubardière and left him there. For no horsecould carry him through the lanes, rocky as they were, at the pace thathe could run and walk across country, and it was only because UncleJoseph insisted on it that he had taken a horse at all. The golden light of sunrise spread over the moor as he ran. He took longleaps through the heather, and coveys of birds scuttled out of his way;but their lives were safe that morning, though his eyes followed themeagerly. Far beyond the purple _landes_, the woods of Lancilly layheaped against the western sky, a billowy dark green sea of velvettouched with the bright gold of autumn and of sunrise; and the châteauitself shone out broad in its glittering whiteness. The guests were allgone now; the music was still; and for Angelot the place was empty, amere shell, a pile of stones. Other roofs covered the joy of his lifenow. This shortest cut from La Joubardière did not bring him to LesChouettes by the usual road, but by a sharp slope of moorland, allstones and bushes and no path at all, and then across one or two smallfields into a narrow lane, a bridle-path between high straggling hedges, one way from Les Chouettes to La Marinière. The poplars by the manorgate, a shining row, lifted their tall heads, always softly rustling, aquarter of a mile farther on. Angelot ran across the fields, jumped a ditch, reached the lane at asharp corner, and was turning to the right towards Les Chouettes, thinking in his joyful gladness that he would be back before even Hélèneexpected him, when something struck his ear and brought him to a suddenstand. It was a woman's scream. "Help, help!" a voice cried; and then again there was a piteous shriekof pain or extreme terror. For one moment Angelot hesitated. Who or what could this be? Some onewas in trouble, some woman, and probably a woman he knew. Or could it bea child, hurt by some animal? One of the bulls at La Marinière was veryfierce; there had been trouble with him before now. Ah! he must turn hisback on Hélène and see what it meant, this cursed interruption. Whatwere they doing to let that beast roam about alone? And even as heturned the shriek tore the air again, and now he could hear a man'svoice, rough and furious, a confusion of voices, the stamping of ahorse, the creaking of harness. No! Bellot the bull was not theaggressor here. Angelot loosened his hunting knife as he ran along the lane. It turnedsharply once or twice between its banks, dipping into the hollow, thenclimbing again to La Marinière. At its lowest point it touched the elbowof a stream, winding away under willows to join the river near Lancilly, and overflowing the lane in winter and stormy weather. Now, however, thepassage was dry, and at that very point a group of figures wasstruggling. Angelot had the eyes of a hawk, and at that distance knewthem all. General Ratoneau was on horseback; his gold lace flashed in thesunlight. Before him on the horse's neck lay a girl's white figure, flung across the front of the saddle, struggling, shrieking, held downby his bridle hand which also clutched her dress, while with thebutt-end of a pistol he threatened Marie Gigot, who screamed for help asshe hung to the horse's head. He, good creature, not being one of theGeneral's own chargers, but a harmless beast borrowed without leave fromthe Lancilly stables, backed from Marie instead of pushing and tramplingher down in obedience to his desperate rider. Little Henriette did herbest by clinging tightly to the white folds of her cousin's gown as theyfell over the horse's shoulder, and was in great danger of being eitherpushed down or kicked away by Ratoneau, as soon as he should havedisposed of Marie. "Let go, woman!" he shouted, with frightful oaths. "Let go, or I'll killyou! Do you see this pistol? A moment more, and I'll dash your brainsout--send you after your master, do you hear?--Ah, bah! keep still, beauty!" as Hélène almost struggled away from him. "I don't want to hurtyou, but I will have what is my own. Get away, child, we don't want you. Morbleau! what's that?" It was a sound of quick running, and Riette's keen ears had heard italready. It had, indeed, saved Ratoneau from being shot dead on thespot, for the child had let go her hold on her cousin's dress with onehand and had clutched the tiny, beautiful pistol with which her fatherhad trusted her, and which she had hidden inside her frock. True, shewas shaking with the terrible excitement of the moment, she was nearlydragged off her feet by the horse's plunging backwards, and a correctaim seemed almost impossible--but her father had told her to defendAngelot's wife, and Riette was very sure that this wicked man should notcarry away Hélène, as long as she had life and a weapon to prevent it. And if she could have understood those words to Marie, --"send you afteryour master"--there would have been no hesitation at all. At the same moment, she and the General turned their heads and looked upthe lane. Something wild and lithe, bright and splendid, came flyingstraight down from the east, from the heart of the sunrise. Theswiftness with which Angelot darted upon them was almost supernatural. He might have been a young god of the Greeks, flashing from heaven torescue his earthly love from an earthly ravisher. Ratoneau was not prepared for such a sudden and fiery onslaught. It waseasy, the work he expected--to tear Hélène from the company of a womanand child, to carry her off to Sonnay. He considered her his ownproperty, given to him by the Emperor, stolen from him by her father andAngelot. It would be easy, he told himself, to have the absurd midnightceremony declared illegal; or if not, he would soon find means to putAngelot out of his way. By fair means or by foul, he meant to have thegirl and to marry her. If his method was that of the ancientGauls--well, she would forgive him in time! Women love a hero, howeverroughly he may treat them. He thought he had learnt that fromexperience; and if Hélène de Sainfoy thought herself too good for him, she must find her level. The man swore to himself that he loved her, andwould be good to her, when once she was his own. As he lifted her on thehorse he knew he loved her with all the violent instincts of a coarseand unrestrained nature. And now came vengeance, darting upon him like a bolt from the shiningsky. Before his slower senses even knew what was happening, before, encumbered with his prey, he could fire a pistol or draw his sword, Hélène had been snatched from him into Angelot's arms. No leave asked ofRatoneau; a spring and a clutch; it might have been a tiger leaping atthe horse's neck and carrying off its victim. The girl screamed againand again, as Angelot set her on the ground, and trembled so that shecould not stand alone. As her lover supported her for an instant, sayingto Marie Gigot, who ran forward from the horse's head, "Take her--takeher home!" Ratoneau fired his pistol straight at the two young heads sonear together. The bullet passed actually between them, touchingHélène's curls. Then the sturdy peasant woman threw a strong arm roundher, and dragged her away towards La Marinière. Angelot, with a flushed face and blazing eyes, turned to the General, who sat and glared in speechless fury. Then the young fellow smiled, lifted his hat, and set it jauntily on again. He had not drawn hishunting knife, and stood empty-handed, though this and a pair of pistolswere in his belt. "And now, Monsieur le Général!" he said, a little breathlessly. Ratoneau stared at him, struck, even at that moment, by hisextraordinary likeness to his uncle. There was the same easy grace, thesame light gaiety, the same joy in battle and fearless confidence, withmore outward dash and daring. Ah, well! as the other insolent life hadended, so in a few minutes this should end. It would be easy--a slip ofa boy--it was fortunate indeed, that it happened so. "Mille tonnerres! you can be buried together!" said Ratoneau. "Merci, monsieur, I hope so--a hundred years hence, " Angelot answeredwith a laugh. "You are mistaken--I am not talking of your wife, " growled Ratoneau. "She will be a widow in ten minutes, and married to me in a month. Imean that you and your precious uncle can be buried together. " "Indeed! Is my uncle going to die?" Angelot said carelessly; but helooked at the madman a little more steadily, with the sudden idea thathe was really and literally mad. "He is dead already. I have killed him, " said Ratoneau. Angelot turned pale, and stepped back a pace, watching him cautiously. "When? Where? I don't believe it, " he said. "We had a disagreement, " said Ratoneau. "It was about you that wequarrelled, a worthless cause. He chose to take your part, and to insultme. I ran him through the body. " Saying this, he slowly dismounted and drew his sword. Angelot stoodmotionless, looking at him. The words had stunned him; his heart andbrain seemed to be gripped by icy hands, crushing out all sensation. Henriette, who had not followed the others, came up and stood besidehim, her great dark eyes, full of horror, fixed upon General Ratoneau. She was motionless and dumb; under the folds of her frock, her fingersgripped the little pistol. As long as she remained silent, neither ofthe men saw that she was there. "Look!" said Ratoneau. He held out his sword, red and still wet, as hehad thrust it back into the scabbard after killing Monsieur Joseph. "Give up the girl to me or you follow your uncle, " he said, after amoment's frightful pause. Henriette came a step nearer, came quite close and looked at the sword. Every drop of her own blood had forsaken her small face, always delicateand pale. Suddenly she stretched out her hand and touched the sword, saying in a low voice, "That was why he did not come back!" "Oh, good God! Go away, child!" cried Angelot, suddenly waking from histrance of horror, and pushing her violently back. Then he drew his knife and sprang furiously upon the General. "Villain! murderer!" he shouted as he closed with him; for this was noformal fight with swords. "Keep off, little devil, or I'll tear you to pieces!" shrieked Ratoneau. "What! You will have it? Come on then, plague upon you, cursed wildcat!" It was an unequal struggle; for Angelot, though strong, was slender andsmall, and Ratoneau had height and width of chest, besides greatmuscular power. And he hated Angelot with all the intensity of hisviolent nature. It was a case in which strength told, and Angelot hadbeen unwise in trusting to his own. A duel with pistols, as he had nosword, would have been better for him. Still, at first, his furiousattack brought him some advantage. He wrenched Ratoneau's sword from hishand and flung it into the stream. Twice he wounded him slightly withhis knife, but Ratoneau, hugging him like a bear, made it difficult tostrike, and the fight became a tremendous wrestling match, in which thetwo men struggled and panted and slipped and lurched from side to side, from the grassy bank to the willows by the water, each vainly trying tothrow the other. The issue of such a combat could not long be doubtful. Courage andenergy being equal, the taller and heavier man was sure to have thebetter of it. Several times Angelot tried to trip his enemy up, butfailed, for his wrestling skill, as well as his strength, was not equalto Ratoneau's. The General was more successful. A twist of his leg, andboth men were dashed violently down upon the stones, Angelot underneath. His knife had already dropped from his hand. Ratoneau snatched it up, and knelt over him, one knee on his chest, one hand on his throat, theknife in the other. Looking up into the dark, furious eyes bent uponhim, watching the evil smile that broadened round the handsome, cruelmouth, Angelot felt that his last moment was come. That face leaningover him was the face of death itself. The little uncle would not belong alone in the unknown country to which this same hand had sent him. "How about your pretty wife now, Monsieur Angelot?" the snarling voicesaid, and the sharp knife trembled and flashed in the sunshine. Angelot set his teeth, and closed his eyes that he might not see it. Ratoneau went on saying something, but he did not hear, for in those fewmoments he dreamed a dream. Hélène's face was bending over his, her softhair falling upon him, her lips touching his. Was death already over, and was this Paradise? He came back to life with a violent start, at the discharge of a pistolclose by; and then the weight on his chest became suddenly unbearable, and the knife dropped from his enemy's hand, and the cruel face fellaside, changing into something still more dreadful. In another minute hehad dragged himself out from under Ratoneau's dead body, and staringwildly round, saw Riette holding a pistol. "Ah! do not look at me so!" she cried, as she met her cousin's horrifiedeyes. "I had to save you! Papa will not be angry. " "He is avenged. You are a heroine, Riette!" he said, and held out hisarms to her; but the child flung away her little weapon which had doneso great a deed, and threw herself upon the ground in a passionate agonyof tears. CHAPTER XXIX THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF MONSIEUR URBAIN It was an afternoon late in November. A wild wind was blowing, andshadows were flying across the country and the leafless woods whichrushed and cried like the sea. A great full moon shone in the sky, chased over and constantly obscured by thin racing clouds, silver andcopper-coloured on the blue-black depths of air. Madame de la Marinière was alone in her old room. The candles werelighted on her work-table, her embroidery frame stood beside it, theneedle carelessly stuck in; a fire of logs was flaming up the wide blackchimney. Anne was not working, but wandering restlessly up and down theroom. Once she went to a window and dragged it open; the moonlightflowed in, and with it a soft rough blast that blew the candles aboutwildly and made smoke and flames fly out from the fire. Anne hastily, with some difficulty, closed the window and fastened it again. She had not waited very long when slow heavy feet came tramping throughthe stone court, the house door opened and shut with a clang, andMonsieur Urbain came into the room. As he took Anne's hand and kissedit in the old pretty fashion, she looked anxiously into his face, a verysad face in these days. Urbain's philosophy had been hardly tried oflate. And his wife was not mistaken in fancying that something new hadhappened that day to deepen the hollows round his eyes, the lines on hisrugged brow. She would not, even dared not ask, for reasons of her own. It might well be that his grief and her joy should run on the samelines. Anne had been praying for something; she was half afraid, thoughshe fully expected, to hear that her prayer was granted. Urbain sat down by the fire, and stretched out his feet and hands to theblaze. "Where are the children?" he said. Anne smiled very sweetly. "Out somewhere in the moonlight. Ange thinksthere is nothing for Hélène like fresh air. " "From her looks, he is right. " "It is not only the fresh air--" Anne broke off, then went on again. "Well, my friend, you went to Sonnay--you took the child to theconvent?" "Yes--she will be very safe there for a time--the reverend mothersreceived her excellently. I do not care for convents, as you know, but Iam not sure that Henriette, even at this early age, has not found hervocation. Till to-day, I do not think I had seen the child smilesince--" "Ah, yes--" Anne murmured something under her breath. "Did you seeMonsieur de Mauves?" "For a few minutes. I talked so long with the Prioress that it was latebefore I reached the Prefecture. He had been to Paris. He explained allthat tissue of rascality to the Emperor, so that no blame might fall onthe wrong shoulders. Luckily His Majesty disliked Ratoneau; the mansmoked and swore too much to please him. " "But after all, " Anne said thoughtfully, "the Prefect drew up thosepapers himself, if he did not send them. And you, Urbain--" He waved his hand sadly, impatiently. "No more of me, I am punishedenough, " he said. "I thought I was acting for everybody's good--butalas!--Yes, De Mauves drew up the papers, and then repented. He threwthem into a drawer, and determined at least to delay sending them tillcircumstances and Ratoneau should force his hand further. Then came hisillness; recovering, he believed the papers to be safe in his bureau, and left this affair, with many others, to arrange itself later. In themeanwhile, the rascal Simon had corrupted his foolish young secretaryand stolen the papers--you know the rest. I suppose we should be gladthat he found out in time--" "Can any one be otherwise than glad?" Anne said gravely. "Yes, my dear, there are those who are very sorry. And--before you blamethem too hardly, remember that Angelot's marriage was the immediatecause of Joseph's death. " "The wickedness of a wicked man is alone to be blamed for that, " saidAnne. "Hélène's marriage with such an unspeakable wretch would have beena worse thing still. " Urbain sighed, and did not answer. Presently, gazing into the fire, while Anne watched him with intent, questioning eyes, he said, "Itappears that the Emperor is a little angry with Hervé for his hurriedaction, though he does not object to its consequence, being good enoughto say that he values me and my influence in this country. But he doesnot like to be treated as a tyrant. De Mauves thinks that Adélaïde willnot have the post of lady-in-waiting. It is a pity; she had set herheart on it. " Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly; it was beyond her power, being atruthful woman, to express any sympathy with Adélaïde. It was hercoldest little voice that said, "Have you been to Lancilly to-day?" "Yes, " her husband answered. "Did you see Adélaïde?" "No. " A bitter smile curled Anne's still beautiful mouth as she stood near hischair and looked at him. Was it only or chiefly Adélaïde's unforgivinganger that weighed on his broad shoulders, bent his clever brow, drovethe old contented smile from his face? True, Joseph's death might wellhave done all this; but she knew Urbain, and he was not the man to cowerunder the inevitable. It was his way to meet the blows of fate with abrave front, if not a gay one; he was a Frenchman, and had lived andlaughed through the great Revolution. And yet Anne was puzzled; for sherespected Urbain too much to acknowledge that Adélaïde's anger couldhave so great an effect upon him. After a short silence he spoke, and told her all; told her of thedisappointment of his dearest hopes, the failure of the schemes andstruggles of a lifetime. And as he talked, Anne came gradually nearer, till at last, with a most unusual demonstrativeness, her arm was roundhis neck, and her cheek pressed against his whitening hair. Large tearsran down the man's face and dropped across his wife's hand and splashedon the tapestried arm of the chair. The Sainfoys were about to leave Lancilly, and probably for ever. Adélaïde could not endure it; since her daughter's marriage it hadbecome odious to her. Neither did Georges like it; and before going backto the army he had become engaged to the heiress with whom he had dancedso much at the ball, who had a castle and large estates of her own inTouraine, and who considered Lancilly far too wild and old-fashioned tobe inhabited, except perhaps for a month in the shooting season. Thus itwas not unlikely that Lancilly would be sold; and for the present itwas to be dismantled and shut up; once more the deserted place, thepreservation of which, the restoring to its right inhabitants, had beenthe dream and ambition of Urbain de la Marinière's life. For his cousinHervé he had spent all his energies and a considerable part of hisfortune; and to no purpose and worse than none. Even Hervé's love andgratitude failed him now; the knowledge that Hervé could never quiteforget or forgive his plotting with Adélaïde and Ratoneau, was thesharpest sting of all; worse even, as his wife felt with a throb ofrapturous joy, than the fact that Adélaïde would smile on him no more. "My poor Urbain!" she murmured. Her sympathy was tender and real, though she felt that her prayer hadbeen answered, that she and her house had been delivered from thecrushing weight of Lancilly, that the great castle on the hill wouldhenceforth be a harmless pile of stones, to be viewed without the olddislike and jealousy. It seemed to her now that she had not known ahappy day since the Sainfoys came back, or even for long before, whileUrbain's whole soul was wrapped up in preparing for them. Yet she wasvery sorry for Urbain. "All for nothing, and worse than nothing, " he sighed; and she found nowords to comfort him. The fire crackled and blazed; outside, the wind rolled in greatthundering blasts over the country. It roared so loudly in the chimneysthat nothing else was to be heard. Urbain went on talking, so low thathis wife, stooping over his chair, could hardly hear him; but she knewthat all he said had the one refrain--"I have worked for twenty years, and this is the end of it all. I might have left poor Joseph in exile. Imight have allowed Lancilly to tumble into ruins. What has come of itall! Nothing, nothing but disappointment and failure. Is it not enoughto break a man's heart, to give the best of his whole life, and tofail!" The wind went on roaring. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not hearthe house door open and shut, then the door of the room, then the lightsteps of Angelot and Hélène across the floor. "Look up, Urbain!" his wife said with a sudden inspiration. "_There_ isyour success, dear friend!" There was a bright pink colour in Hélène's cheeks; her eyes and lips, once so sad, were smiling in perfect content; her fair curls were blownabout her face; she was gloriously beautiful. Angelot held her hand, andhis dark eyes glowed as he looked at her. "We have been fighting the elements, " he said. Urbain and Anne gazed at them, these two splendid young creatures forwhom life was beginning. The philosopher's brow and eyes lightenedsuddenly, and he smiled. "And by your triumphant looks, you have conquered them!" he said. "Isthat my doing, Anne? Is that my success, my victory?" he added after amoment in her ear. "Yes, dearest, you are right. Embrace me, mychildren!" * * * * * Les Chouettes was shut up for seven years, and the country people wereshy of passing it in the dusk, for they said that under the old oaks youmight meet Monsieur Joseph with his gun and dog as of old, coming backfrom a day's shooting. When old Joubard heard that, he said--and hiswife crossed herself at the saying--that he would rather meet MonsieurJoseph, dead, than any living gentleman of Anjou. But there came a time when young life took possession again of LesChouettes, and lovely little children played in the sandy court andpicked wild flowers and ran after butterflies in the meadow; when MadameAnge de la Marinière wandered out in the soft twilight, without fear ofghosts or men, to meet her husband as he walked down the rugged lanefrom the _landes_ after a long day's shooting. And there were no plots now in Anjou, and neither Chouans nor policehaunted the woods; for Napoleon was at St. Helena, and France couldbreathe throughout her provinces, for the iron bands were taken off herheart, and the young generation might grow up without being cut down inits flower. It was at this time that Henriette de la Marinière decided to give LesChouettes to her cousin Angelot, and finally to enter the convent whereshe had spent much time since her father's death, and where she died asPrioress late in the nineteenth century, having seen in France threeKings, a second Empire, and a Republic. She remained through all, of course, a consistent Royalist like herfather. But to some minds, such an ebb and flow may seem to justify thephilosophy of Urbain, and even more, perhaps, the light and happyindifference of Angelot. * * * * * Transcriber's note: There is some inconsistency in placing of accents, all are as in theoriginal.