"Yes, dear aunt, in years, but not in experience. I have lived, I know life"--she nodded gently--"while those poor girls--Ah, how charming! May I have a little dance with Ange, Aunt Anne?" "I suppose so. Lise will not have her cap yet, it seems," said Madame de la Marinière, smiling in spite of herself. Monsieur Joseph had sat down to the piano and was playing a lively polka. Angelot started up, seized his little cousin, and whirled her off down the room. In a minute or two Urbain took off his spectacles, shut the _Théâtre d'Agriculture_ with a sharp clap, walked up to Anne and held out his hands with a smiling bow. "I can't resist Joseph's music, if you can, my little lady!" "It seems we must follow the children," she said. "Riette has just been pointing out that she, at least, is wiser than her elders." Angelot and his father jumped their light partners up and down with all the merry energy of France and a new world. After a few turns, Angelot waltzed Riette out into the hall, and they stood still for a few moments under the porch, while she whispered Hélène's message into his ear. "Mon Dieu! But how can she meet me? It must be at night, or they will see us. And if she is locked into her room?" "She can get out of her room, mon petit! She knows there is a way, though I have not shown it to her. Then there is the secret staircase in the chapel wall." "You are right, glorious child that you are. She will find me in the moat, close to the little door. Nothing can be safer, provided that no one misses her." "At what time?" "Nine o'clock, when they are all playing cards." "I will tell her," said Riette. "Oh, my Ange! she looked so sweet when she talked of you. I think I love her as much as you do. Why don't you bring her to Les Chouettes, that we may take care of her? There is an idea. Take her to Monsieur le Curé to-morrow night. He will be gone to bed, but no matter. Make him get up and marry you. Then come and live at Les Chouettes, both of you. We have plenty of room, and little papa would not be angry." "Hush, child, what things you say!" The very thoughts were maddening, there in the dim darkness under the stairs, with glimmering points of distant earthly light from Lancilly on the opposite hill. One of them might be Hélène's window, where she sat and watched La Marinière. The music in the old room behind went swinging on. Monsieur Joseph played with immense spirit; Monsieur and Madame Urbain danced merrily up and down. "Allons! we must go back," Angelot whispered to his little cousin, whose arms were round his neck. "And then you must dance with your uncle, because my mother likes a turn with me." One cold touch of reflection came to dim his happiness. He had promised Uncle Joseph not to make Henriette a go-between. And it seemed no real excuse that it was Hélène's doing, not his. Well, this once it could not be helped. All the promises in the world would not make him disobey Hélène or disappoint her.