"Yes," said Marguerite, drawing closer to the fire at each gust of wind, "this night will be difficult to pass. I do not know, but it seems to me that something extraordinary is going to happen; that bat that I saw—and in my dream all those people were riding to the sabbath on broomsticks. That surely indicates something."
"Certainly," said Urbain, and the old woman, to reassure herself, rubbed the talisman between her hands.
Urbain's story had lasted for a long time. Marguerite, however, had said nothing, as she was not anxious to go upstairs to bed. Blanche, who never saw Ursule leave without regret, had taken care not to observe that it was getting late and the young bachelor was not the one who would first think of breaking up the party. However, the clock struck, and they counted eleven strokes.
"O heavens! eleven o'clock," cried Blanche.
"O my God!" said Marguerite, trembling, "in an hour it will be midnight."
"But, dear nurse, Ursule cannot go so late and besides by the time she gets there—Wait! do you hear the rain, it is falling in torrents. How can she go to the Porte Saint-Antoine in such weather as this? It's impossible."
"It is certain," said Urbain, "that the roads are very bad. There are no lanterns and often one puts one's foot in holes that one does not see."
"Poor Ursule, her talisman will not prevent her from being drenched, will it?"
"It is true it doesn't guarantee one against the effect of rain," responded Urbain, sighing.
"What is to be done?" said Marguerite.