"It would be useless, anyhow," said the mother, laying her arm around her daughter's waist. Olive repeated the kiss, prolonging it passionately. "I have nobody but you," murmured the girl; "I am a poor quadroone!" She threw back her plaited hair for a third embrace, when a sound in the shrubbery startled them. "_Qui ci pa?_" called Madame Delphine, in a frightened voice, as the two stood up, holding to each other. No answer. "It was only the dropping of a twig," she whispered, after a long holding of the breath. But they went into the house and barred it everywhere. It was no longer pleasant to sit up. They retired, and in course of time, but not soon, they fell asleep, holding each other very tight, and fearing, even in their dreams, to hear another twig fall. CHAPTER X. BIRDS. Monsieur Vigneville looked in at no more doors or windows; but if the disappearance of this symptom was a favorable sign, others came to notice which were especially bad,--for instance, wakefulness. At well-nigh any hour of the night, the city guard, which itself dared not patrol singly, would meet him on his slow, unmolested, sky-gazing walk. "Seems to enjoy it," said Jean Thompson; "the worst sort of evidence. If he showed distress of mind, it would not be so bad; but his calmness,--ugly feature." The attorney had held his ground so long that he began really to believe it was tenable. By day, it is true, Monsieur Vignevielle was at his post in his quiet "bank." Yet here, day by day, he was the source of more and more vivid astonishment to those who held preconceived notions of a banker's calling. As a banker, at least, he was certainly out of balance; while as a promenader, it seemed to those who watched him that his ruling idea had now veered about, and that of late he was ever on the quiet alert, not to find, but to evade, somebody. "Olive, my child," whispered Madame Delphine one morning, as the pair were kneeling side by side on the tiled floor of the church, "yonder is Miché Vignevielle! If you will only look at once--he is just passing a little in--Ah, much too slow again; he stepped out by the side door." The mother thought it a strange providence that Monsieur Vignevielle should always be disappearing whenever Olive was with her. One early dawn, Madame Delphine, with a small empty basket on her arm, stepped out upon the _banquette_ in front of her house, shut and fastened the door very softly, and stole out in the direction whence you could faintly catch, in the stillness of the daybreak, the songs of the Gascon butchers and the pounding of their meat-axes on the stalls of the distant market-house. She was going to see if she could find some birds for Olive,--the child's appetite was so poor; and, as she was out, she would drop an early prayer at the cathedral. Faith and works.