"Now," said Monsieur Antoine, "we must wait for our friend Jean, for we can't trust things of such value to a hare-brained chap like Master Charasson."
Gilberte awaited the carpenter's return with the more impatience because she expected to receive news of Emile from him. She had no idea that Emile was ill. But at the very thought of his mental suffering she was so beset by anxiety that she could not think of herself; and these days of separation, which she had thought that she could endure so courageously, seemed to her so long and so depressing that she asked herself in dismay how Emile could endure them. She flattered herself that he would find a way to write to her, although she would not authorize him to do it; or, at least, that the carpenter would repeat their conversation to her, to the most unimportant words.
But the carpenter did not appear, and evening came without bringing any relief to the girl's painful anxiety. Her secret grief was augmented by a real annoyance. Monsieur Antoine showed signs of weakening in regard to the resolution Gilberte had formed—and which he had at first approved—to refuse Monsieur de Boisguilbault's gifts. He threatened again and again to consult Janille, without whose advice he had taken no important step for twenty years, and Gilberte trembled lest her old nurse's imperative veto should block the proposed restitution.
Jean did not come on the following day either. Doubtless he was working for Monsieur de Boisguilbault, and Gilberte was surprised that, being within so short a distance, he did not divine her longing to talk with him, were it only for a moment. A vague uneasiness guided her in that direction. She set out for Mère Marlot's hut, and as usual put in her basket the modest delicacies which she took from her own dinner for her invalids. But fearing that Monsieur de Châteaubrun would open his heart to Janille in her absence and that the governess's seal would be affixed to the jewel-case, she wrapped it up in the shawl, and placed the whole at the bottom of her basket, determined not to part with them again except to despatch them to their destination.
Living in the country, in more than modest circumstances, Gilberte was accustomed to go about alone in the neighborhood of her home. Poverty dispenses with etiquette, and it would seem that the virtue of wealthy maidens is more fragile or more precious than that of their poorer sisters, as the former are never allowed to take a step without an escort.
Gilberte went about alone on foot with as much security as a young peasant girl, and she was in reality even less exposed, for she was known, loved and respected by all whom she was likely to meet.
She was afraid neither of dogs, nor cows, nor snakes, nor of a loose colt. Children brought up in the country know how to protect themselves from those trifling dangers, which a little presence of mind and coolness are sufficient to avert. So she did not take her rustic page, nor use the family vehicle, except when the weather was threatening or she was in a hurry. On this afternoon the sun was still shining in a clear sky, and she started off with a light foot on the path across the fields. Mère Marlot's hut was almost equidistant from Châteaubrun and Boisguilbault.
The poor woman's children were fairly convalescent, and Gilberte did not stay long with them. Mère Marlot told her that Monsieur de Boisguilbault had left her a hundred francs on the day of their meeting in her hovel, and that Jean Jappeloup was working at the wooden house in the park. She had seen him pass in the morning, carrying various tools.
Gilberte thereupon thought that she might hope to meet the carpenter as he returned to Gargilesse, and she determined to go to wait for him on the road. But, fearing that she might be seen and recognized loitering about the park, she borrowed a fustian cape from Mère Marlot, on the pretext that the air was a little cool and that she felt slightly indisposed. She put the hood over her fair hair, and, thus enveloped, walked in a straight line, gliding through the bushes like a fawn, to the park gate opening on the Gargilesse road. There she hid beneath the willows on the bank of the stream, not far from the spot where it ran along the edge of the park. She noticed that the gate was still open, a proof that Monsieur de Boisguilbault was not yet in the park; for as soon as he stepped inside all the gates were carefully closed and locked, and this uncivilized custom of the châtelain was well known throughout the neighborhood.
This circumstance emboldened her, and she walked as far as the gate, to try to see Jean Jappeloup. The roof of the chalet caught her eye; it was very near. The path was in shadow and deserted.