From this vault a ruined but passable staircase led up to the level of the ground. I shall never forget how beautiful everything looked to me as we emerged from the deeps of the earth and saw the whole landscape bathed in the mild autumnal sunshine. My heart bounded for a moment and then sank as in a deep of cold, bitter waves, when I thought how soon I must leave all this beauty, never, never to see it again. English people sometimes fancy that French people do not care for their homes because they have no one word which answers to the English one. It is just one of those pieces of insular pride and—I was going to say stupidity—which always enrage me, though I am half an English woman by birth and wholly one by adoption. "Ah, fair France!" said my father mournfully. "Thou that killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto thee. Surely the day will come when thou shalt desire to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and shall not see it. Thou hast condemned and killed the just, and he doth not resist thee!" "And that is where the just is not of my mind," muttered Andrew between his teeth. "If he were, he would have one fight for it." My father did not hear, but I did, and gave Andrew a look, partly of approbation, partly of warning. I felt as he did. If we could only have fought for our lives, I should not have minded it so much. We returned by the fields, after my father and Andrew had shut up the entrance to the passage with the loose stones in such a manner that they could easily be removed. As to the other end, we were not afraid to leave it open, since not one of our farm or house servants would have descended into the vault for any consideration. We found my mother anxiously expecting us. "You are gone a long time," said she. "Here is a strange visitor—no less than a Capuchin friar—who says he used to know you, and desires much to see you." "A friar!" said my father, turning pale. "What can he want? Where is he?" "Eating and drinking in the dining-room at this moment, if he is not asleep in his chair," answered my mother. "I could do no less than offer him hospitality, especially as he asked no impertinent questions, and had nothing to say about religious matters. He seems a harmless old soul enough." "Many of them are, I believe, while others are wolves in sheep's clothing," said my father; "but I shall soon see to which class our friend belongs." My father went to the dining-room, where he shut himself in with his guest and remained a long time, apparently in earnest conversation. Finally, however, we saw him accompany the friar to the gate and take a friendly leave of him. "Well, what had your ghostly father to say?" asked my mother when my father returned to us. "Nothing more than I knew already," replied my father. "Did you not know him? It was my old playmate and companion in arms, Louis de Reviere."