tre
Dame shake," I said, pleasantly. "I mean no discourtesy, father; it
is a proverb in Paris."

"There is another proverb," observed the turkey-girl, placidly.
"Once a little inhabitant of hell stole the key to paradise. His
punishment was dreadful. They locked him in."

I looked up at her, perplexed and irritated, conscious that she was
ridiculing me, but unable to comprehend just how. And my irritation
increased when the priest said, calmly, "Can I aid you, my child?"

She shook her head with a cool smile.

"I am quite safe under the escort of an officer of the Imperial--"

"Wait!" I said, hastily, but she continued, "of the Imperial
Military Police."

Above all things I had not wanted it known that the Imperial Police
were moving in this affair at La Trappe, and now this little fool had
babbled to a strange priest--of all people in the world!

"What have the police to do with this harmless child?" demanded the
priest, turning on me so suddenly that I involuntarily took a step
backward.

"Is this the confessional, father?" I replied, sharply. "Go your way
in peace, and leave to the police what alone concerns the police."

"Render unto Caesar," said the girl, quietly. "Good-bye, father."

Turning to look again at the priest, I was amazed to find him close to
me, too close for a man with such eyes in his head, for a man who
moved so swiftly and softly, and, in spite of me, a nervous movement
of my hand left me with my fingers on the butt of my pistol.

"What the devil is all this?" I blurted out. "Stand aside, father.
Do you think the Holy Inquisition is back in France? Stand aside then!
I salute your cloth!"

And I passed on ahead, one hand on the horse's neck, the other
touching the visor of my scarlet forage-cap. Once I looked back. The
priest was standing where I had passed him.

We met a dozen people in all, I think, some of them peasants, one or
two of the better class--a country doctor and a notary among them.
None appeared to know my turkey-girl, nor did she even glance at them;
moreover, all answered my inquiries civilly enough, directing me to La
Trappe, and professing ignorance as to its inhabitants.

"Why do all the people I meet carry bundles?" I demanded of the
notary.

"Mon Dieu, monsieur, they are too near the frontier to take risks,"
he replied, blinking through his silver-rimmed spectacles at my
turkey-girl.

"You mean to say they are running away from their village of
Trois-Feui