ch, while she whispered Helene's message into his ear.

"Mon Dieu! But how can she meet me? It must be at night, or they will
see us. And if she is locked into her room?"

"She can get out of her room, mon petit! She knows there is a way,
though I have not shown it to her. Then there is the secret staircase
in the chapel wall."

"You are right, glorious child that you are. She will find me in the
moat, close to the little door. Nothing can be safer, provided that no
one misses her."

"At what time?"

"Nine o'clock, when they are all playing cards."

"I will tell her," said Riette. "Oh, my Ange! she looked so sweet when
she talked of you. I think I love her as much as you do. Why don't you
bring her to Les Chouettes, that we may take care of her? There is an
idea. Take her to Monsieur le Cure to-morrow night. He will be gone to
bed, but no matter. Make him get up and marry you. Then come and live at
Les Chouettes, both of you. We have plenty of room, and little papa
would not be angry."

"Hush, child, what things you say!"

The very thoughts were maddening, there in the dim darkness under the
stairs, with glimmering points of distant earthly light from Lancilly on
the opposite hill. One of them might be Helene's window, where she sat
and watched La Mariniere.

The music in the old room behind went swinging on. Monsieur Joseph
played with immense spirit; Monsieur and Madame Urbain danced merrily up
and down.

"Allons! we must go back," Angelot whispered to his little cousin,
whose arms were round his neck. "And then you must dance with your
uncle, because my mother likes a turn with me."

One cold touch of reflection came to dim his happiness. He had promised
Uncle Joseph not to make Henriette a go-between. And it seemed no real
excuse that it was Helene's doing, not his. Well, this once it could not
be helped. All the promises in the world would not make him disobey
Helene or disappoint her.

For the present, it seemed as if the attraction between himself and
Helene, a rapture to both of them, still meant very real misery to her.
She was in deep disgrace with Madame de Sainfoy. Although she was
allowed to come down to the meals, at which she sat statue-like and
silent, she was sent back at once to her room, and either her mother or
Mademoiselle Moineau locked her in.

Her father noticed these proceedings and shrugged his shoulders. He was
sorry for Helene, but had learnt by experience not to interfere, e