uit such
comfortable quarters to wander about in the fields all night during the
frost and snow, Tortillard began in a whimpering voice to say:

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! poor father has got one of his old fits come on
again. There, there, father, sit down and keep yourself quiet. Pray do,
and don't think of wandering out in the cold--it would kill you, maybe.
No, not if you are ever so angry with me, will I be so wicked as to lead
you out in such weather." Then, addressing himself to the labourers, he
said, "Will none of you good gentlemen help me to keep my poor dear
father from risking his life by going out to-night?"

"Yes, yes, my boy," answered Father Chatelain; "make yourself perfectly
easy. We will not allow your father to quit the place. He shall stay
here to-night, in spite of himself."

"Surely you will not keep me here against my will?" inquired the
wretched Schoolmaster, in hurried accents; "and perhaps, too, I should
offend your master by my presence--that Monsieur Rodolph. You told me
the farm was not an hospital; once more, therefore, I ask you to let me
go forth in peace on my way."

"Offend our master!--that you would not, I am quite sure. But make
yourself easy on that score. I am sorry to say that he does not live
here, neither do we see him half as frequently as we could wish. But, if
even he had been here, your presence would have made no sort of
difference to him."

"No, no," persisted the blind man with continued alarm; "I have changed
my mind about applying to him. My son is right. No doubt my relation at
Louvres will take care of me. I will go there at once."

"All I have got to say," replied Father Chatelain, kindly conceiving
that he was speaking to a man whose brain was unhappily affected, "is
just this--that to attempt to proceed on your journey with this poor
child to-night is wholly out of the question. Come, let me put matters
to rights for you, and say no more about it."

Although now being reassured of Rodolph's not being at Bouqueval, the
terrors of the Schoolmaster were by no means dissipated; and, spite of
his frightfully disfigured countenance, he was in momentary dread of
being recognized by his wife, who might at any moment enter the kitchen,
when he was perfectly persuaded she would instantly denounce and give
him into custody; his firm impression having been, from the hour of
receiving his horrible punishment from the hands of Rodolph, that it was
done to satisfy the hatred