Adelaide is a woman of the world, as we have decided before," said
Urbain. "Say no more; here is the boy. It is best that he should know
nothing of this--do you understand?"

Anne understood, or thought she did; and a nod and smile from her went a
long way towards reassuring Angelot, who had been a little puzzled by
the sudden appearance of the soldier. But he was not curious; his father
was by no means in the habit of telling him everything, making indeed a
thin cloud of wilful mystery about some of his doings. It had always
been so; and Angelot had grown up with a certain amount of blind trust
in the hand which had guided his mother and himself through the thorny
years of his childhood.

At this moment he was distracted by a very serious attack on Nego. The
dog would have to be shot, Monsieur Urbain said, if he received people
so savagely; and in defending Nego the rest of Angelot's breakfast-time
was spent.

Later on he was a little surprised by his father's telling him to go
alone to La Joubardiere and arrange about the vintage. Urbain had
remembered business, he said, which called him to Lancilly. He turned
away and left the room without a word, without seeing, or perhaps
choosing to see, the sudden flame of irritation in Anne's dark eyes, the
light of another feeling in Angelot's.

The young fellow lingered a moment in the dining-room window, and
watched the sturdy figure walking away in linen clothes and a straw hat,
the shoulders slightly bent from study, the whole effect that of honest
strength and capacity, not at all of intrigue and ruse. Then he turned
round and met his mother's eyes. For a moment it seemed as if they must
read each other's soul. But Anne only said: "Do not delay, my boy. Go to
Joubard; arrange things to please your father. We must remember; he is
wiser than we are; he does the best for us all."

"Yes, my little mother," said Angelot. "Only--Nego shall not be shot.
Yes, I am going this instant."

He took her hand and kissed it. She pushed back his hair and kissed his
forehead.

"And what are you going to do?" he said. "Come with me to see the old
Joubards."

"No, no. I must go to the church," she said. "I was hurried this
morning."

As Urbain crossed the valley, going through the little hamlet, down the
white stony lane, between high hedges, then by field paths across to the
lower poplar-shaded road, then along by the slow, bright stream to the
bridge and the first white houses o