e south, the village side; he had to skirt
round the backs of the houses and then slip up the river bank till he
came to the bridge between the long rows of whispering, rustling
poplars. After that a short cut across the fields, where he knew every
bush and every rabbit hole, brought him up under the shadow of the
church at La Mariniere.

The Cure lived with his old housekeeper in a low white house above the
church, on the way to the manor. She was always asleep early; but the
old man, being very studious and too nervous to sleep much, often sat up
reading till long after midnight. Angelot therefore counted on finding a
light in his window, and was not disappointed. He cut his old friend's
eager welcome very short.

"Monsieur le Cure, come with me at once to the chateau, if you please.
Monsieur de Sainfoy wishes to see you."

"At this hour of the night! What can he want with me? I understood the
whole 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 Cure began to hurry about the room.

"By the bye, take your vestments," said Angelot in a lower tone. "He
wants 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 Cure, and
come, 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 find
you."

"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Angelot, and laughed loudly.

The good old Cure was seriously frightened. He thought that this
charming boy, whom he had known from his birth, was either crazy or
drunk with strong wine. Yet, as he really could not be afraid to trust
himself 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 not
answer, and started off with him into the dim and chilly dampness of the
night.

Angelot nearly died of impatience. He had run all the way to La
Mariniere, he had to walk all the way back, and slowly. For the Cure was
feeble, and his sight was not good, and the lane