He doffed his hat, and the hats of all likewise came off in a strange quiet. A cheer followed, and Valmond motioned for wine to go round freely. Then he got off his horse, and, taking the weeping old man by the arm, himself loosening the drum from his belt, they passed into the hotel.
"A cheerful bit of foolery and treason," said Monsieur De la Riviere to
Madame Chalice.
"My dear Seigneur, if you only had more humour and less patriotism!" she answered. "Treason may have its virtues. It certainly is interesting, which, in your present gloomy state, you are not."
"I wonder, madame, that you can countenance this imposture," he broke out.
"Excellent and superior monsieur, I wonder sometimes that I can countenance you. Breakfast with me on Sunday, and perhaps I will tell you why—at twelve o'clock."
She drove on, but, meeting the Cure, stopped her carriage.
"Why so grave, my dear Cure?" she asked, holding out her hand.
He fingered the gold cross upon his breast—she had given it to him two years before.
"I am going to counsel him—Monsieur Valmond," he said. Then, with a sigh: "He sent me two hundred dollars for the altar to-day, and fifty dollars to buy new cassocks for myself."
"Come in the morning and tell me what he says," she answered; "and bring our dear avocat."