“You have not heard from her since, then?”
“Not unless there is a letter awaiting me here. But I know that there is not. No doubt I shall have one in a day or two. . . . And now, Father, it is getting late, and I must hear about you and events here.”
The priest bent forward. “Gilbert, I must tell you first a very serious piece of news which concerns you personally, but not Chantemerle. I did not want to tell you immediately upon your arrival—nor before the others. There was a rising last week in the Lyonnais. Château-Foix, among other places, was attacked——”
“And is now no longer in existence,” finished the Marquis coolly.
“How did you know?” ejaculated his companion.
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders. “I did not know. I merely guessed. I assume from your tone that I am correct?”
“The house was burnt to the ground. I am afraid that there is not a doubt of it. There were no lives lost; that is one thing to be thankful for.”
The Marquis continued to be unmoved. “No, I am not in the least surprised. The whole district was in a ferment of revolutionary ardour when I was there last spring. I thought that this would happen sooner or later. As you know, I was never fond of the place, and the wreckers have relieved me of a few thousand crowns of income and an uncongenial responsibility. Let me be assured that no one has been burning anything here!”
“That is hardly likely. There is not really much to tell you. It was on June 30th, four days after you left, that the Directory decreed the attendance of all non-jurors at Fontenay. We had warning of their intention the day before, and Madame, on hearing of it, bade me take up my residence here at once, in case of a search being made for me in the village. But there has been no search, and I have not felt obliged to debar myself from visiting my flock as usual, though I have not returned to the presbytère.”
“I should think not, indeed!” commented the young man. “And, Father, for God’s sake be careful how you show yourself in the village. Are you saying Mass in the church?”