The lady's reply was not of the most direct kind; but from it the Norman gathered, with his usual acuteness, that after our friend Gaultier had pointed out to Fontrailles the road to the old Castle of St. Loup, he returned home, his mind oppressed with the consciousness of being the confidant of a Sorcerer. He laboured under the load of this terrific secret for some days; and then, his constitution not being able to support his mental struggles, he sickened and took to his bed, where he still lay in a deplorable state, talking in his sleep of the conjuror in grey, and of Père Le Rouge, and the Devil himself, and sundry other respectable people of the same class. But when awake, it must be remarked, the _aubergiste_ never opened his lips upon the subject, notwithstanding all the solicitations which his better half, being tempted by the curiosity of her sex, did not fail to make. From all this the good dame concluded that the little man in grey had bewitched her husband and driven him mad, causing him to lie up there upon his bed like a hog, neglecting his business and leaving her worse than a widow. All this was corn, wine and oil to the mind of the Norman, who, wisely reserving his opinion on the subject, retired to consult with Louise, having a great esteem for woman's wit in such cases. After some discussion, a plan was manufactured between them, which, though somewhat bold in conception, was happily brought to issue in the following manner. During the dinner, at which the _bourgeoise_ waited herself, she was not a little surprised to hear Louise more than once call Marteville by the reverend appellation of _mon père_; and if this astonished, how much was her wonder increased when afterwards, during a concerted absence of the Norman, the fair lady informed her, under a promise of profound secrecy, that the goodly cavalier, whose blue velvet doublet she had so much admired, was neither more nor less than the celebrated _Père Alexis, directeur_ of the Jesuits of Alençon, who was travelling in disguise in order to place her (one of his penitents) in a monastery at Rome. True, Louise either forgot or did not know that they were not precisely in the most direct road to Rome, but she was very safe in the person she spoke to, who had even less knowledge of where Rome stood than herself. Now the story of Louise was a very probable one in every other respect, considering the manners of the day; for _les bons pères Jesuites_ very often travelled about in disguise for purposes best known to themselves, and very few of the _bons pères_, whether Jesuits or not, were averse to a fair penitent. Be that as it may, the simple _bourgeoise_ never doubted it for a moment, and casting herself at the feet of Louise, she entreated her, with tears in her eyes, to intercede with the reverend _directeur_ to confess and absolve her sinful husband, who lay up-stairs like a hog, doing nothing.