convincing; she was never in doubt as to
her own right course or other people's: and Angelot, who had no
sisters, loved her like a little sister, and accepted her tyrannous
ways joyfully.

She had hardly spoken when he was out of the window, and with a few
strides across the sunshine had disappeared into the dark and cavernous
archway of the stables.

Henriette turned to the two remaining guests, Cesar d'Ombre still
arguing in favour of instant action with Monsieur des Barres, who looked
serious enough now, and stood shrugging his shoulders.

"Follow me, gentlemen," said the child. "I know where my papa is waiting
for you."

"Mademoiselle, we are in your hands," said the Vicomte, bowing. "We have
never for an instant lost confidence in you."

She bent her head, with the air and smile of a woman who rather
scornfully accepts an apology. She went out of the dining-room and along
the hall, the two men following her. Cesar d'Ombre lingered as far as he
dared, and grumbled between his teeth.

At that very moment the Prefect of the department, with the newly
appointed General in command of the troops stationed there, only
escorted by three men in the dress of gendarmes, rode slowly and gently
round the back of the kitchen into the sandy courtyard of Les Chouettes.

"Monsieur de la Mariniere's hermitage," said the Prefect to his
companion.

"It looks like one, sapristi!" said the General.

Nothing could seem stiller, more fast asleep, than Les Chouettes in the
approaching noon of that hot September day. The dogs barked and growled,
it was true, but only one of them, the youngest, troubled himself to get
up from where he lay in the warm sand. No human creature was to be seen
about the house or buildings; the silence of the woods lay all around;
the dry air smelt delicately of wood smoke and fir trees; the shadows
were very deep, cutting across the broad belts of glowing sunshine.

"Every one is asleep," said the Prefect. "I am afraid breakfast is over;
we ought to have arrived an hour ago."

"Caught them napping!" chuckled the General.

The voices, and the clinking of bridles, as the little cavalcade passed
towards the house at a walking pace, brought the cook to the kitchen
door. She stared in consternation. She was a pretty woman, Gigot's wife,
with a pale complexion and black hair; her provincial cap was very
becoming. But she now turned as red as a turkey-cock and her jaw
dropped, as she stared after the hor