Louis was undoubtedly fast asleep now. The priest got up, replaced the _Princess of Babylon_ on the console, and blowing out one candle took up the other. He stood for a moment by the bed, shading the light with one hand, and looking down at the young man lying sunk among its many pillows, but certainly thinking less at that moment of his physical than of his spiritual needs. Then with a little sigh he roused himself, and, making the sign of the cross over the sleeper’s head, turned and went quietly out of the room. CHAPTER XXVII HOUSEKEEPING OF THE VICOMTE AND THE CURÉ Gilbert slept late next morning. When he at last came downstairs he could not find the Marquise, and as he was looking for her he met the Curé emerging from the library. He greeted him, and asked where she was. “Upstairs, I believe,” said the priest. “Do you want her, or were you looking for me?” “Both, I think,” answered Château-Foix with a smile. “I will wait till she comes down. I want to finish last night’s talk. By the way, how is Louis?” “I am afraid that he is rather worse this morning—a little light-headed, Madame said. She has sent to Chantonnay for a surgeon.” “I must go to him,” said Gilbert, turning very pale. Everything, then, was leagued against his secret; if Louis were really delirious again it might in an hour be common property, not only in the château but in the village itself. “I must go to him at once,” he repeated, and before the priest could protest that it was unnecessary he had vanished. About an hour later the door of Louis’ room was heard to unlock, and the Marquis, emerging, went downstairs to the library. “I have been thinking over our conversation of last night, Father,” he began, walking straight to the writing-table. “As soon as it can possibly be arranged I shall take my mother to Nantes and see her off to England. It is increasingly dangerous here, and I should like her to be with Lucienne. I shall only be away a few days.” The priest looked at him. “I expect you are quite right,” he said, after a perceptible pause. “But how is Louis?” “Asleep,” returned Gilbert shortly. “He was not really delirious. I don’t think he will need the surgeon.” “I am glad of that,” observed M. des Graves. “I told the Marquise that it was best to leave you alone, and that she need not alarm herself because the door was locked.” * * * * * * In this way it came about that, five days later, Louis, lying on a _chaise longue_ just inside the open windows of the library, was able to remark cheerfully: “And so we are going to have a week’s tête-à-tête, Father!” Outside, on the flags of the balcony, M. des Graves was pacing to and fro, reading his office, and for some minutes the young man’s gaze, half affectionate, half mischievous, had been following the cassocked figure, until this time, as it passed, he addressed it.