The child was gone. Hélène, standing in the deep recess in the window, now came forward and looked round wonderingly. The old tapestried walls surrounded her; ancient scenes of hunting and dancing which at first had troubled her sleep. There was no visible exit from the room, except the locked door. But Riette was gone, and the message with her. Was she a real child, or only a comforting dream? CHAPTER XVI HOW ANGELOT PLAYED THE PART OF AN OWL IN AN IVY-BUSH That night, while Hélène sat alone and in disgrace, her lover was dancing. After dinner Riette persuaded her father to walk across with her to La Marinière, where they found Monsieur Urbain, his wife and son, spending the evening in their usual sober fashion; he, deep in vintage matters, still studying his friend De Serres, and arguing various points with Angelot whose day had been passed with Joubard in the vineyards; she, working at her frame, where a very rococo shepherd and shepherdess under a tree had almost reached perfection. Madame de la Marinière had views of her own about little girls, and considered Riette by no means a model. She had tried to impress her ideas on Monsieur Joseph, but though he smiled and listened admiringly, he spoiled Riette all the more. So her Aunt Anne reluctantly gave her up. But still, in her rather severe way, she was kind to the child, and Riette, though a little shy and on her good behaviour, was not afraid of her. There was always a basket beside Aunt Anne, of clothes she was making for the poor, for her tapestry was only an evening amusement. In this basket there was a little white cap such as the peasant children wore, partly embroidered in white thread. This was Riette's special work, whenever she came to La Marinière. Sitting on a footstool beside her aunt, she stitched away at "le bonnet de la petite Lise." At her rate of progress, however, as her aunt pointed out with a melancholy smile, Lise would be a grown-up woman before the cap was finished. And on this special evening the stitches were both few and crooked. Riette paid no attention to her work, but sat staring and smiling at Angelot across the room, and he, instead of talking to his father and uncle, watched her keenly under his eyelids. Presently he came and stood near his mother's chair while she asked Riette a few questions about her lessons that day. It appeared that all had been satisfactory. "A good little woman, Mademoiselle Moineau," said Riette, softly, smiling at Angelot, who felt the colour mounting to his hair. "I like her very much. She pretends to scold, but there is no malice in it, you know. I don't think she is very clever. Quite clever enough for Sophie and Lucie, who are most amiable, poor dear children, but stupid--ah!" "They are older than you, I believe, Henriette," said her aunt, reprovingly.