otice of the unwilling spectator. She was a witness in spite of
herself. She sank on her knees and sobbed in a corner, partly from real
distress at a marriage she thought most foolish and unsuitable, partly
from fear of what Madame de Sainfoy might say or do. Her rage must
certainly find some victim. She would never believe that Mademoiselle
Moineau could not have escaped and called her in time to interrupt this
frantic ceremony. As for Monsieur de Sainfoy, his brain must certainly
have given way. The poor governess hoped little from him, though he
showed some method in his madness by leaving her locked up in the chapel
when they all went away and telling her to wait there in silence till he
came back. At least that was better than being forced to go down alone
to announce this catastrophe to Helene's mother. The Comtesse would have
been capable of turning her out into midnight darkness after the first
dozen words.

Helene, her dearest wish and wildest dream fulfilled in this strange
fashion, seemed to be walking in her sleep. She obeyed her father's
orders without a word to him or to Angelot, threw on a cloak, and
followed them and the Cure down the steep blackness of the winding
stairs. At the door her father put out his light, and it was his hand
that guided her through the long grass and bushes in the moat, while
Angelot gave all his care to the old priest. At the top of the steps, as
the four hastily crossed into the deeper shadows of the wood, the tall
and strange figure of Martin Joubard appeared out of the gloom. A few
hurried words to him, and he readily undertook to see the Cure safely
home. The sight of Monsieur de Sainfoy impressed him amazingly; it was
evident that Monsieur Angelot had not been acting without authority.
Martin stared with all his eyes at the cloaked woman's figure in the
background, but promised himself to have all details from the Cure on
their way through the lanes.

Herve de Sainfoy again gave his arm to his daughter, leading her down
into the darkness of the wood. Angelot, more familiar with the ways,
walked a yard or two in front of them. Several times--his sporting
instinct not dulled by the wonderful thing that had happened--he was
aware of a slight rustling in the bushes on the right, between the path
where they were and the open ground of the park beyond the wood. He
listened to this with one ear, while the other was attentive to his
father-in-law. It did not strike Monsieur de Sa