"No, no," persisted the blind man with continued alarm; "I have changed my mind about applying to him. My son is right. No doubt my relation at Louvres will take care of me. I will go there at once."
"All I have got to say," replied Father Châtelain, kindly conceiving that he was speaking to a man whose brain was unhappily affected, "is just this—that to attempt to proceed on your journey with this poor child to-night is wholly out of the question. Come, let me put matters to rights for you, and say no more about it."
Although now being reassured of Rodolph's not being at Bouqueval, the terrors of the Schoolmaster were by no means dissipated; and, spite of his frightfully disfigured countenance, he was in momentary dread of being recognized by his wife, who might at any moment enter the kitchen, when he was perfectly persuaded she would instantly denounce and give him into custody; his firm impression having been, from the hour of receiving his horrible punishment from the hands of Rodolph, that it was done to satisfy the hatred and vengeance of Madame Georges. But, unable to quit the farm, the ruffian found himself wholly at the mercy of Tortillard. Resigning himself, therefore, to what was unavoidable, yet anxious to escape from the eyes of his wife, he said to the venerable labourer:
"Since you kindly assure me my being here will in no way displease either your master or mistress, I will gladly accept your hospitality; but, as I am much fatigued, and must set out again at break of day, I would humbly ask permission to go at once to my bed."
"Oh, yes, to-morrow morning by all means, and as soon as you like; we are very early people here. And, for fear even that you should again wander from the right road, some one shall conduct you part of the way."
"If you have no objection," said Jean René, addressing Father Châtelain, "I will see the poor man a good step on the road; because Madame Georges said yesterday I was to take the chaise and go to the lawyer's at Villiers le Bel to fetch a large sum of money she requires of him."
"Go with the poor blind traveller by all means," replied Father Châtelain; "but you must walk, mind. Madame has changed her mind about sending to Villiers del Bel, and, wisely reflecting that it was not worth while to have so large a sum of money lying useless at the farm, has determined to let it remain with the lawyer till Monday next, which will be the day she requires it."
"Of course, Father Châtelain; mistress knows best. But please to tell me why she should consider it unsafe to have money at the farm. What is she afraid of?"
"Of nothing, my lad. Thank God, there is no occasion for fear. But, for all that, I would much rather have five hundred sacks of corn on the premises than ten bags of crowns. Come," said old Châtelain, addressing himself to the brigand and Tortillard, "come, follow me, friend; and you too, my lad." Then, taking up a small lamp, he conducted his two guests to a chamber on the ground floor, first traversing a large passage into which several doors opened. Placing the light on a table, the old labourer said to the Schoolmaster, "Here is your lodging, and may God grant you a good and peaceful night's repose, my good friend. As for you, my little man, you are sure to sleep sound and well; it belongs to your happy age to do so."
The Schoolmaster, pensive and meditative, sat down by the side of the bed to which Tortillard conducted him. At the instant when Father Châtelain was quitting the room, Tortillard made him a sign indicative of his desire to speak with him alone, and hastily rejoined him in the passage.