"This is serious," he said. "Sit down beside me on the bench, and tell me all about it. It sounds like madness, and I always thought you were a reasonable boy."
"It is madness in one way, I suppose," said Angelot. "And yet stranger things have happened. In fact, of course, nothing else could happen."
Monsieur Joseph frowned and stared. His quick brain was running round the neighbourhood and finding nobody; then it made an excursion at lightning speed into the wilds of Brittany, where Angelot had sometimes visited his mother's relations; but there again, as far as he knew, no likely match was to be found. He was sure that Urbain and Anne had not yet taken any steps to find a wife for Angelot; he also thought it was a subject on which they were likely to disagree. And now the young rascal had hit on somebody for himself. Might Heaven forbid that he had followed modern theories and was ready to marry some woman of a rank inferior to his own—some good-for-nothing who had attracted the handsome, simple-hearted boy!
"No! He would not dare to tell me that," Monsieur Joseph said to himself, and added aloud, "Who is the lady?"
There was a touch of severity in his tone; a foretaste, even from the dear little uncle, of what was to be expected.
"But, dear uncle," Angelot said slowly, "it could only be one person."
"No—no, impossible!" said Monsieur Joseph, half to himself. "Angelot, my boy—not—not there?" and he waved his hand in the direction of Lancilly.
Angelot nodded. "You have seen her," he murmured; "you ought not to be surprised. You have never seen any one half so beautiful."
Monsieur Joseph laughed outright. "Have I always lived at Les Chouettes?" he said. "However, she is a pretty girl, fair, graceful, distinguished. Riette had more to tell me about the younger ones; that was only natural. Of course I have only exchanged a compliment with Mademoiselle Hélène. She looked to me cold and rather haughty—or melancholy, perhaps. When have you spoken to her, Angelot? or is it merely the sight of her which has given you this wild idea?"
"Yes, she is melancholy," Angelot said, "but not cold or haughty at all. She is sad; it is because she is alone, and her mother is hard and stern, though her father is kind, and she has had no peace in life from all their worldly ways. They wanted to marry her to people she detested—her mother did, at least—"