CHAPTER XIV
PLOTTER AND PRIEST
(1)
Not until that evening did Roland’s exact words about the aumônier recur to Mme de Trélan’s memory. Who could she have been, the dying old lady who possessed this mysterious document? It was all but clear now that some treasure really did exist in Mirabel; but its existence, as a matter of fact, interested Mirabel’s mistress less than the means by which it had come to light after all these years. She had no intention of claiming the hoard.
And more amazing than all was the fact that this third treasure-seeker was a priest. It seemed almost as if her fervent wish of the last days were on its way to be granted. Could she ask him to say Mass in Mirabel—would it be safe? She knew nothing about him personally, but he could not be a man to shrink from risks, or he would not be employed on his present mission. He must equally be an insermenté, one who had not sworn allegiance to the State, or he would never be aumônier to a Royalist division.
The desire to feel her way towards this great question of a Mass at Mirabel, as well as to satisfy her curiosity about the plan, was the reason why next day, at the same time, as the Abbé-gardener was making with a handkerchief of provisions towards the colonnades, she went up the great steps and intercepted him.
“Your coffee is awaiting you in my room, Monsieur l’Aumônier,” she suggested, “if you will give yourself the trouble to descend thither.”
He thanked her and followed her down, unrolled his comestibles, took the plate she put before him, and with little ado set heartily to work. Valentine placed the coffee pot at his elbow and herself sat down opposite him.
“I hope you will pardon my rustic manners, Madame,” he observed after a moment or two, “but this digging gives a man a fine appetite.”
“I trust they feed you well where you lodge in the village, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said she in reply. “Where do you lodge, by the way?”