have heard me. One hears me like a
locomotive, now that I have lost my slimness."

She came into the room as she spoke, unwinding a number of black,
knitted shawls, in which she was enveloped. There were so many of them,
and of such different shape and texture, that some confusion ensued. The
Abbe ran to her assistance.

"But, Madame," he cried, "how can you suspect me of such a crime? I
came early to make these preparations. And as for hearing you--would
to Heaven I had! For it needs courage to be a Royalist in these
days--especially in the dark, by one's self."

He seemed to know the shawls, for he disentangled them with skill and
laid them aside, one by one.

The Comtesse de Chantonnay breathed a little more freely, but no
friendly hand could disencumber her of the mountains of flesh, which
must have weighed down any heart less buoyant and courageous.

"Ah, bah!" she cried, gaily. "Who is afraid? What could they do to an
old woman? Ah! you hold up your hands. That is kind of you. But I am no
longer young, and there is my Albert--with those stupid whiskers. It is
unfilial to wear whiskers, and I have told him so. And you--who could
harm you--a priest? Besides, no one could be a priest, and not a
Royalist, Abbe!"

"I know it, Madame, and that is why I am one. Have we been seen, Madame
la Comtesse? The village was quiet, as you came through?"

"Quiet as my poor husband in his grave. Tell me, Abbe, now, honestly, am
I thinner? I have deprived myself of coffee these two days."

The Abbe walked gravely round her. It was quite an excursion.

"Who would have you different, Madame, to what you are?" he temporized.
"To be thin is so ungenerous. And Albert--where is he? You have not
surely come alone?"

"Heaven forbid!--and I a widow!" replied Madame de Chantonnay,
arranging, with a stout hand, the priceless lace on her dress. "Albert
is coming. We brought a lantern, although it is a moon. It is better.
Besides, it is always done by those who conspire. And Albert had his
great cloak, and he fell up a step in the courtyard and dropped the
lantern, and lost it in the long grass. I left him looking for it, in
the dark. He was not afraid, my brave Albert!"

"He has the dauntless heart of his mother," murmured the Abbe,
gracefully, as he ran round the table setting the chairs in order. He
had already offered the largest and strongest to the Comtesse, and it
was creaking under her now, as she moved to set her dress in o