His heavy-headed stick swung in the air. "Crack!" it came down on the side of Simon's head and laid him flat on the turf. Martin stood and looked at him.
"Now the saints grant I have not killed him," he said piously, "though I think he might very well be spared. But he won't go and catch Monsieur Angelot just at present."
He left Simon lying there, and went quietly back to join the Curé.
CHAPTER XXVI
HOW ANGELOT KEPT HIS TRYST
For Hélène, the next wonder in that autumn night's dream was the arrival at Les Chouettes, the mysterious house which bore the character of a den of Chouans, but the thought of which had always pleased her, as the home of Angelot's most attractive uncle.
Angelot hurried her through the lanes, almost in silence. At last he stopped under a tall poplar, which gleamed grey in the starlight among the other lower trees. It was close to the spot where, coming from Les Chouettes in the evening, he had been irresistibly drawn by the lights of Lancilly. Here he took Hélène in his arms and kissed her for the first time since the Curé had joined their hands.
"Mine!" he said. "My love, Hélène! you are not unhappy, you are not afraid, my own?"
"I am with you," the girl said, very low.