The Lord of Masseran gave him every assurance that he would return speedily; and then left the garden, followed by the attendant who had summoned him. The priest looked after them and listened; and, being someway connected with the race of that gentleman called in history Fine-ear, he distinctly heard the door by which he and the marquis had entered the garden locked after the latter had quitted it. "There is another door," he muttered to himself, with a smile, looking towards one of the archways upon the terrace leading to the chateau.
The next instant, however, there was a sound from that quarter also, as if somebody turned the key there likewise; but the priest continued to smile notwithstanding, and, proceeding slowly along the terraces, as if merely to amuse himself by a walk, he approached the thick wall of the garden, and stopped at the entrance of one of those little guerites, or watch-towers, with which the whole enclosure was studded from place to place. Up the narrow staircase in the stone he made his way, and then looked carefully out through the loophole which was turned towards the chief entrance of the chateau. No living object, however, was to be seen in the immediate neighbourhood of the castle itself; though, as the attendant had said, about a mile down the road which passed through the valley was a group of men, and horses, and dogs gathered together in various listless attitudes, while two large eagles were seen whirling in immense circles high up above the tops of the mountains, upon the lower part of whose tall sides a flock of sheep appeared feeding in peaceful tranquillity.
"I may as well go," said the priest to himself, as he gazed out upon this quiet scene. "I have said all that it is necessary to say, and this sweet lord may not have done all that he may think it necessary to do. I like not his whisperings, so I may as well go."
But, as the priest thus murmured to himself, he looked out again in the same direction, when two persons came slowly forth from behind an angle of one of the towers, and, taking their way under the garden wall, approached the very spot where Father Willand stood. There was no difficulty in recognising the Lord of Masseran and the Count de Meyrand. "Now what would I give," murmured the priest to himself, "for one of those famous inventions—those ear-trumpets—those sound-catchers—which we read about in old histories."
The good priest, however, possessed none such; and though his ears, as we have said, were very sharp; though he thrust his head as far as he could into the loophole; though the count and his companion, thinking that no one observed them, spoke loudly and vehemently; and though they passed directly under the turret where the priest stood, nevertheless, the words that he could catch were very few. "Well, my good lord, well," said the Lord of Masseran, "you blame me without cause. I have done my best, and am as disappointed as you are."
"I do not blame you," replied the other; "I only tell you what must be the result if the plans you have proposed cannot be carried through immediately."
"Not that I have proposed, not that I have proposed," replied the other; "the suggestion was your own."
"Indeed!" said the Count de Meyrand, "this is something new to me. All I know is, that I have got the whole of your scheme drawn out in your own hand; the names false, indeed, or written in cipher, but for that we will soon find a key. What I asked was this, either that you should pay me the large debt you owe, or that you should give me such assistance in my suit to Mademoiselle de Brienne as would enable me to call her my wife within two months. Those two months have now wellnigh expired, and I will be trifled with no more."
The latter part of this sentence was lost to the ear of the priest; but he guessed what it must be; and certainly the slight portion that he had heard gave him a very strong inclination to hear more. He paused, then, to consider whether this could be accomplished by any possible means, but it was evident that such could not be the case; for, even while he turned the matter in his mind, the little path along which the Marquis de Masseran and his companion walked led them farther and farther from the wall of the garden. We must now, however, follow the two noblemen, and leave the priest to his fate, which we shall very speedily see.
"Well, well, my good friend," replied the Marquis de Masseran, in answer to the last observation of the count, "the time has not yet fully expired, and it shall be your own fault if my promise is not completely fulfilled."