Hervé de Sainfoy again gave his arm to his daughter, leading her down into the darkness of the wood. Angelot, more familiar with the ways, walked a yard or two in front of them. Several times--his sporting instinct not dulled by the wonderful thing that had happened--he was aware of a slight rustling in the bushes on the right, between the path where they were and the open ground of the park beyond the wood. He listened to this with one ear, while the other was attentive to his father-in-law. It did not strike Monsieur de Sainfoy, once away from the house, that caution and silence might be necessary; he talked out of the relief and gladness of his heart, while affectionately pressing Hélène's hand in his arm. "Make my compliments to your uncle, Angelot. Ask him to forgive me for taking his nephew and sending him back a niece. He will see that your duty lies in France now. As to that dear father of yours, I shall soon make my peace with him." "Papa!" Hélène spoke for the first time, and Angelot forgot the rustling in the bushes. "Cannot we--may not we go to La Marinière?" "Not at first," said Hervé, more gravely. "Ange must make sure of a welcome there--and he knows his uncle Joseph." "There is another reason," Angelot said eagerly. "My uncle is expecting me. He has made arrangements for me--this very night--I must come to an understanding with him. You know--" he said, looking at Hélène, "my uncle has risked much for me. To-morrow--or to-day, is it? my mother shall welcome you. You are not displeased?" "No, no. Take me anywhere--I will go anywhere you like," Hélène answered a little faintly; the thought of Angelot's mother, slightly as she knew her, had been sweet and comforting. For she was a timid girl, and these wild doings frightened her, though she loved Angelot and trusted him with all her heart. Her father laughed. "Certainly, my poor girl," he said, "no daughter of Lancilly was ever before married and smuggled away in such a fashion." "I am satisfied, papa," said Hélène; and they passed on through the wood and came to the crossing of the roads, where he kissed her, and once more laid her hand in Angelot's. "Take care of your wife," he said to him; and he stood a minute in the road, watching the two young figures, very close together, as they turned into a hollow lane that wound up into the fields and so on towards Les Chouettes. The Curé and Martin Joubard started away from the château by a path that crossed the park and reached the bridge without going through the village. They were not yet clear of the park, walking slowly, when a man came out of the shadows of the wood to the north, and crossed their path, going towards the south side of the château. He passed at some yards' distance in the confusing darkness of the low ground, where mists were rising; but Martin Joubard had the eyes of a hawk, and knew him.