Monsieur Urbain and his wife followed immediately. Angelot had not waited for them and the little hooded carriage, but had walked on across the valley in the cool damp darkness. They talked very seriously as they drove home, for once in entire agreement. When they reached the manor, their son had shut himself into his own room, and they did not disturb him.
"I hope you will soon keep your word, and find a suitable husband for Hélène," Madame de Sainfoy said to her husband. "I am a little tired of the business."
"I don't think there will be much difficulty. We must look further afield. Plenty of men of our own rank have accepted the Empire, and Hélène is a match for a Prince, though our little cousin refuses her! I rather like that boy."
"Do you? I do not. Certainly he was candid—and he put an effectual stop to his uncle's absurdities. He is really out of his mind, that man. I wish the Chouans joy of him."
"Poor Joseph! After all, he is an excellent creature. In these days, it is amusing to meet any one so wild and so romantic."
"I find it tiresome," said Adélaïde.
CHAPTER XI
HOW MONSIEUR URBAIN SMOKED A CIGAR
These days before the vintage were very peaceful at La Marinière. Monsieur and Madame Urbain were practical people, and idleness, as a rule, had a bad time of it with them; but September was a holiday month, and there was little work going on, except the hammering of barrels in the yard, and other preparations for busy October. September was usually the month when Angelot could shoot and ramble to his heart's content, when Urbain had leisure to sit down with a book at other times than evening, when Anne, her poor people visited, nursed, comforted, her household in quiet old-fashioned order, could spend long hours alone praying and meditating in the little old church.