Of one thing, however, the priest went to bed that night convinced. Though he could not yet define or measure it, Gilbert had suffered some moral transformation during his absence. Next day, however, its nature was made clearer to him, in the course of a long conversation—a talk more intimate indeed than they often enjoyed—wherein Château-Foix frankly admitted some change in himself. Contact with facts had at last shattered the Liberal ideals which he had so carefully cherished. La Rouërie’s influence possibly counted for something in the process of iconoclasm. At any rate, M. des Graves was struck with the attraction which the Breton had exercised upon him; for in this interview, perhaps because Louis was not present, Gilbert was much more prodigal of details about their intercourse. And it was scarcely a surprise to M. des Graves to find that Gilbert had brought back from Brittany, besides the increased zeal and energy for which he could not altogether account, a perfectly formulated desire of emulating, in some measure at least, the work which La Rouërie had done in that province. For several days the two discussed this possibility in all its bearings, before Gilbert, once so opposed to the mere idea, would yield to the priest’s conviction that to set on foot throughout Vendée a Royalist organisation analogous to that of Brittany was not yet desirable and would only court disaster. Moreover, Château-Foix had changed in other ways—or so it seemed. A day or two after his return a recrudescence of the search for hidden priests had led both Gilbert and M. des Graves to the conclusion that prudence demanded the suppression, during the day, of any sign that the little chapel at the château was still used for worship. It had therefore been dismantled one morning after Mass, and later in the day the Curé took Gilbert to look at it. Everything was gone—the houselling-cloth from the rails, the peasants’ little votive candles from the shrine of the Madonna, the holy water from the stoup at the door; and the altar itself, stripped of everything, even of its crucifix, stood deserted and lightless against the bare wall. “Jerusalem is indeed made an heap of stones,” said M. des Graves sadly, looking at the empty tabernacle. “This is the first day for half a century at least that you have been without the presence of the Blessed Sacrament here.”