"A monk, say you!—A monk!"
"Yes, monsieur, a young monk of the Order of Saint Augustine, who looked as if he had not another hour to live, so pale and weak was he."
"And what has become of him?"
"He remained here, and your guest said to me: 'Michael, I beg you to keep the arrival of the monk an absolute secret. I shall inform Monsieur Estienne of the occurrence. Your master will approve the measures I have taken.'"
"Did you follow his recommendation?"
"Yes, monsieur, but that is not all. Last night the big one-eyed fellow came back just before dawn. He was on horseback, and behind him, wrapped in a cloak on the crupper of his mount, he brought—a nun! I went immediately to notify your guest. He came out running, and almost fainted away at the sight of the nun. Bathed in tears he returned with her into the house, while the big one-eyed man rode off at a gallop. It was daylight by that time. Finally, towards noon to-day, the big one-eyed man returned once more, but this time clad in a peasant's blouse and cap. He brought a little casket to your guest, and then went off—"
Astounded at what the gardener was telling him, Robert Estienne walked up to the house, where he rapped in the nature of a signal—two short raps and then, after a short pause, a third. Instantly Christian opened the door.
"My friend, what is the matter? What has happened?" cried Robert Estienne, struck by the profound change in the appearance of the artisan, who threw himself into the arms of his patron, murmuring between half-smothered sobs:
"My daughter!—My daughter!"
Robert Estienne returned Christian's convulsive embrace, and under the impression that some irreparable misfortune had happened, he said in sympathetic accents: