f gorse. A stone's throw away on his right the
common was bordered by a thorn hedge. Beyond this loomed a tall building
which he knew to be an open barn, standing on the edge of a long stretch
of meadowland. That dark, silent shadow it may have been that had
brought him to a standstill, suggesting shelter to his subconsciousness.
A moment he hesitated; then he struck across towards a spot where a gap
in the hedge was closed by a five-barred gate. He pushed the gate open,
went through the gap, and stood now before the barn. It was as big as
a house, yet consisted of no more than a roof carried upon half a dozen
tall, brick pillars. But densely packed under that roof was a great
stack of hay that promised a warm couch on so cold a night. Stout
timbers had been built into the brick pillars, with projecting ends to
serve as ladders by which the labourer might climb to pack or withdraw
hay. With what little strength remained him, Andre-Louis climbed by one
of these and landed safely at the top, where he was forced to kneel, for
lack of room to stand upright. Arrived there, he removed his coat and
neckcloth, his sodden boots and stockings. Next he cleared a trough for
his body, and lying down in it, covered himself to the neck with the hay
he had removed. Within five minutes he was lost to all worldly cares and
soundly asleep.

When next he awakened, the sun was already high in the heavens, from
which he concluded that the morning was well advanced; and this before
he realized quite where he was or how he came there. Then to his
awakening senses came a drone of voices close at hand, to which at first
he paid little heed. He was deliciously refreshed, luxuriously drowsy
and luxuriously warm.

But as consciousness and memory grew more full, he raised his head clear
of the hay that he might free both ears to listen, his pulses faintly
quickened by the nascent fear that those voices might bode him no good.
Then he caught the reassuring accents of a woman, musical and silvery,
though laden with alarm.

"Ah, mon Dieu, Leandre, let us separate at once. If it should be my
father..."

And upon this a man's voice broke in, calm and reassuring:

"No, no, Climene; you are mistaken. There is no one coming. We are quite
safe. Why do you start at shadows?"

"Ah, Leandre, if he should find us here together! I tremble at the very
thought."

More was not needed to reassure Andre-Louis. He had overheard enough to
know that this was but