"By a peasant woman, his—"
"Wife!"
The Governor smiled; applying a seal, pressed it hard. "The courts found differently," he observed in a mild, even voice, as speaking to himself and extolling the cause of justice.
"The courts! Because the priest who married them had been driven from Brittany! Because he could not be found then! Because—" The man's indignation had got the better of his taciturnity, but he did not finish the sentence.
"Either," said the Governor quietly, "you are one of those simple-minded people who, misguided by loyalty, cherish illusions, or you are a scheming rogue. No matter which, unfortunately," in crisp tones, "it is necessary to take time to deal with you."
"At your Excellency's service!" And the man folded his arms but, again turning to his table, the Governor apparently found some detail of employment there of paramount importance; once more kept the prisoner waiting.
The silence lengthened; in the dim light of the walk noiselessly the girl drew nearer; unseen, reached the old abbot's great granite chair with its sheltering back to the court and close to the Governor's table. Into the capacious depths of this chilly throne, where once the high and holy dignitary of the church had been accustomed to recline while brethren laved his feet from the tiny stone lavatorium before it, she half sank, her cheek against one of its cold sides; in an attitude of expectation breathlessly waited. Why was it so still? Why did not her father speak? She could hear his pen scratch, scratch!
They were again speaking; more eagerly she bent forward; listened to the hard, metallic voice of the Governor.
"You left the castle at once when the decree of the court, ordering it vacated, was posted in the forest?"
"My master told me to, pretending he was going, but—"