he
Cure by a way of his own into the wood, and led him up by a path soft
with dead leaves to the north side of the chateau.

"Monsieur Angelot!"

It was once more Martin Joubard's voice. He was much astonished, not
having seen Angelot leave the chateau. He stared at the Cure and took
off his hat.

"All's well, Martin; you are a good sentry--but hold your tongue a
little longer," said Angelot.

"Ah! but take care, Monsieur Angelot," said the soldier, pointing with
his 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's
a light in the chapel window, do you see? and just now I heard them
hammering at the little door down there in the moat. It may be a trap
for you. Listen, though, seriously. I don't know what sport you may be
after, but you ought not to run Monsieur le Cure into it, and so I tell
you. It is not right."

The good fellow's voice shook with anxiety. He did not pretend to be
extra religious, but his father and mother reverenced the Cure, and he
had known him ever since he was born.

Angelot laughed impatiently.

"Come, Monsieur le Cure," he said. "We are going down into the moat, but
the steps are uneven, so give me your hand."

"Do not be anxious, Martin," said the old man. "All is well, Monsieur de
Sainfoy 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, and
then he heard the creaking hinges of that door far below. It was
cautiously closed. All was dark and still in the moat, but shadows
crossed 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 being
played. Georges de Sainfoy was dancing with the richest heiress in
Touraine, and his mother was so engrossed with a new ambition for him
that she forgot Helene for the moment, and her more certain future as
the wife of General Ratoneau.

Madame de Sainfoy had not seen her husband since he received the
Prefect'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 CURE ACTED AGAINST HIS CONSCIENCE

If the old priest had come in faith at Monsieur de Sainfoy's call, not
knowing, not e