The means of sending off speedily to Father Ferdinand were, luckily, found without difficulty; for, though we could not risk despatching a servant to him from the château, yet Jerome saw that another messenger might be procured by the intervention of Jacques Marlot.

Under these circumstances, I determined to write to the Priest myself; and, having done so, I committed the letter to the hands of the good major-domo, who undertook that it should go, at the latest, the next morning. All this occupied some time, and it was now growing late; but yet the Duke had not returned. Another hour elapsed; supper-time arrived; and, although one of the most regular men in his habits that I ever saw, still Monsieur de Villardin did not appear. The whole household became alarmed; and Madame de Villardin herself, whom some one foolishly informed of the facts, gave herself completely up to terror; and, weeping bitterly, came down to the hall in order to send out people to seek for her husband. At that moment, however, Monsieur de Villardin's step was heard in the vestibule; and immediately afterwards he entered the hall.

He took but little notice of his wife, merely asking, "Why are you weeping, madam?" and after her reply, that she was apprehensive for his safety, he cast down his eyes and stood musing, in the middle of the hall, for two or three minutes, which seemed perfect ages to those who were the spectators of so painful a scene. Then, starting suddenly, he looked round frowningly upon myself and several of the servants, who were gazing upon him in surprise and sorrow, and sat down to table unwashed, and in his dusty dress.

He seemed, however, by this time to have recovered some kind of command over his demeanour, and appeared eager to prevent the servants, whose astonishment he saw that he had excited, from remarking that there was anything in his behaviour different from his ordinary habits. He spoke to Madame de Villardin frequently during supper, to which she sat down with him, using, as he addressed her, all those forms of cold courtesy and politeness, which none knew better how to employ than himself. To me, also, he spoke once or twice concerning my late expedition; and evidently strove, with a desperate effort, to appear attentive to my replies. It was in vain, however, that he did so; for he continually relapsed into deep thought, every two or three minutes rousing himself violently from his reveries, and then falling back again, whether he would or not, into a state of dreary abstraction.

The next morning, a new change seemed to have taken place in his mood, for he came down perfectly himself, collected, and firm. He was quick and stern, it is true, but that was a frame of mind in which we had all often remarked him, and thought there was now, perhaps, something more approaching towards fierceness in his manner than we had ever beheld; yet this demeanour was so much better than the state of the preceding evening, that it appeared a relief.

Several times during the course of the morning I hoped that he was going to speak to me on the subject of his new suspicions, for more than once he looked earnestly, I may call it wildly, in my face; and once, when he had done so during a longer space than ever, he suddenly broke off, and turned away, muttering, "No, no! myself alone!"

I eagerly watched his conduct to Madame de Villardin during dinner, and saw that it was certainly very different from that of the night before--keen and rapid, but no longer harsh and abstracted. Yet though the Duchess herself seemed delighted with the change, and did all she could to soften him still farther, there appeared to me something not natural in his manner, which alarmed me, and I determined to walk down to Juvigny in order to make sure that the letter had been despatched to Father Ferdinand, for whose coming I prayed more fervently than I had ever done for the presence of any other man in my life. The reply was satisfactory--a messenger having been sent off to Rennes at an early hour; and I felt certain, though it might be late the next day before the Confessor could arrive, that he would not suffer two suns to rise ere he was in the château.

So far relieved was the mind of Madame de Villardin by the alteration in her husband's conduct, which she apparently trusted would now return to its ordinary course, that she began to resume her usual habits; and, accompanied by her little girl, took her stated walk in the cool of the evening; for it was now the month of May, and as warm as June. The Duke was shut up in his library all day, and, I supposed, alone; but in descending the back staircase--which, leading from my apartments in the wing, passed one of the library doors, and thence to the court behind the château--I encountered Suzette, the Duchess's woman, coming out from a conference with Monsieur de Villardin; and I felt sure, from that moment, that no internal change of feeling had taken place in his bosom, though he might assume, by a great effort, a different demeanour to those around him. To the hour of supper he was this night exact: and though his conversation was evidently forced, and perhaps a little rambling, yet it was fluent and courteous.

After supper, I, as usual, retired to my own apartments, and, full of painful thoughts, turned to the window, and gazed out upon the park as it lay before me, sleeping in the calm moonlight. I had not been there a moment, when a figure appeared upon the terrace, which I instantly recognised as that of Monsieur de Villardin. With a quick and irregular pace he descended the flight of steps that led into the garden, crossed it towards the park, and in a minute after was lost to my view in one of the dark alleys. Never did I feel so tempted to play the spy; but though I was conscious that the motive was not an evil one, yet my mind revolted from the thought, and casting off my clothes, I went to bed.

The next morning and day passed much in the same manner; but, about half an hour before dusk, while Madame de Villardin was preparing for her evening walk, the Duke himself set out on foot before her, saying to his wife, as he left the saloon, in which I happened to be at the time, "As you are not going to take Laura with you to-night, if you come down the walk by the water side, I will meet you. Our young friend here will accompany you!"