this did not seem likely, for Urbain de la Mariniere
came in after dinner, and the snuffy, sharp-faced little Cure of
Lancilly was there too. Madame de Sainfoy had asked him to dine that
day, partly to show herself superior to family prejudices; for this
little man, unlike the venerable Cure of La Mariniere, was one of the
Constitutional priests of the Republic.

Flushing crimson, and feeling, as she well might, like a heroine of
romance, Helene heard the new Paris clock strike nine. Its measured,
silvery tones had not died away, when she was by her mother's side at
the card-table, timidly asking leave to go to her room.

Madame de Sainfoy had just glanced at her hand and found it an excellent
one.

"Yes, my child, certainly," she said absently, and gave Helene her free
hand.

The girl touched it with her lips, and then her mother's fingers lightly
patted her cheek.

"How feverish you are!" Adelaide murmured, but took no further notice,
absorbed in her game.

"Like a little flame! but it is a hot night," said Herve as his daughter
kissed him.

Mademoiselle Moineau was following Helene from the room, when she was
called back.

"No, mademoiselle, you must stay; we cannot do without you. Monsieur le
Cure has to be home before ten o'clock."

The governess went back obediently to her corner. Helene glanced back
from the door at the group round the table, deep in their calculations,
careless of what might be going on outside their circle of shaded
candle-light. Only her father lifted his head and looked after her for
an instant; her presence or absence was totally indifferent to the other
men, though the square-headed cousin Urbain was Angelot's father; and
her mother had forgotten her already.

Carrying her light, Helene went with quick and trembling steps through
the house to the north wing. As she entered the last passage, she met
the maid who had been waiting on Sophie and Lucie, and who slept in the
room next her own.

"Mademoiselle wants me?" said Jeanne, a little disappointed; she had
hoped for half-an-hour's freedom.

"No, no, I do not want you," Helene answered quickly. "I have things to
do--you can stay till Mademoiselle Moineau comes up."

Jeanne went on her way rejoicing.

Helene, once in her own room, locked the door inside, took a large black
lace scarf and threw it over her head, hiding her white dress with it as
much as possible; then, still carrying her candle, touched the
mysterious tape