"All's well, Martin; you are a good sentry--but hold your tongue a little longer," said Angelot. "Ah! but take care, Monsieur Angelot," said the soldier, pointing with his stick to the dark, tremendous walls which towered beyond the moat. "I don't know what is going on there, but don't venture too far. There's a light in the chapel window, do you see? and just now I heard them hammering at the little door down there in the moat. It may be a trap for you. Listen, though, seriously. I don't know what sport you may be after, but you ought not to run Monsieur le Curé into it, and so I tell you. It is not right." The good fellow's voice shook with anxiety. He did not pretend to be extra religious, but his father and mother reverenced the Curé, and he had known him ever since he was born. Angelot laughed impatiently. "Come, Monsieur le Curé," he said. "We are going down into the moat, but the steps are uneven, so give me your hand." "Do not be anxious, Martin," said the old man. "All is well, Monsieur de Sainfoy has sent for me." The crippled sentry waited. In the deep shadows he could see no more, but he heard their steps as they climbed down and crossed the moat, and then he heard the creaking hinges of that door far below. It was cautiously closed. All was dark and still in the moat, but shadows crossed the lighted chapel window. The wind was rising, the clouds were flying, and the stars shining out. Waves of music flowed from the south side of the long mass of building, and sobbed away into the rustling woods. An enchanting valse was being played. Georges de Sainfoy was dancing with the richest heiress in Touraine, and his mother was so engrossed with a new ambition for him that she forgot Hélène for the moment, and her more certain future as the wife of General Ratoneau. Madame de Sainfoy had not seen her husband since he received the Prefect's letter, and was not aware of his disappearance from the ball, now at the height of its success and splendour. CHAPTER XXV HOW THE CURÉ ACTED AGAINST HIS CONSCIENCE If the old priest had come in faith at Monsieur de Sainfoy's call, not knowing, not even suspecting what was wanted of him, Angelot, who knew all, yet found it impossible to believe. Therefore he could not bring himself to give the Curé any explanation, or even to mention Hélène's name. Her father, for whom he now felt a passionate, enthusiastic reverence and love, had trusted him in the matter. He had said, resting his hand on his shoulder: "Tell Monsieur le Curé what you please. Or leave it to me to tell him all;" and Angelot had felt that the Curé must be brought in ignorance. Afterwards he knew that there were other reasons for this, besides the vagueness in his own mind. The Curé had a great sense of the fitness of things. Also, next to God and his Bishop, he felt bound to love and serve Urbain and Anne de la Marinière.