“These are not days in which one can trust to the post, Jasper; but if ever the occasion offer of letting us hear of you by other means, you 'll not neglect it.”
“The Père Tonsurd will manage this for you,” broke in Ursule. “He knows how to communicate, when, and with whom he pleases.”
“But how am I to meet with him?” asked I.
“This is his address, and this letter will introduce you,” said she, giving me a carefully-folded and well-sealed packet. “Make a friend of him, Jasper, and your happiness will be the reward.”
I thought that Margot's lip was upturned at these words, with a faint expression of disdainful meaning; but I may easily have been deceived, for as I looked again, her features were calm and unmoved.
“The Père,” resumed Ursule, “was superintendent of the 'Chaise Dieu,' and removed to be a Professor at Namur. He is a man of high acquirements and sincere piety, but his great characteristic is his humility. With a tenth of the ambition that others possess, he had been a Prince of the Church.”
Margot's eyes were downcast as this was spoken, so that I could not detect how the speech affected her; but again it struck me that her mouth was moved with an expression of scorn.
“There! I hear the horn of the postilion; you have n't a moment to lose!” cried Ursule.
A fond, close embrace with each in turn, and a whispered word from Margot which I tried in vain to catch, and I was gone! I buried my head between my hands in shame, for I was crying bitterly, and never looked up till we were far away from the village, and traversing a wide, open country, with great undulating fields of corn, and few traces of habitation.
“Come, come, be a man,” broke in the conducteur, with a rough good-humor. “You 're not the first who had to leave his home for the conscription, and some have gone back chefs-d' escadron, afterwards.”