"In shining robes of grace—oui-da!—the martyrs and the acolytes of God. It is I who tell you, beau jeune homme—I, Anne of Fäouette. I saw them pass where, on my two knees, I gathered orange mushrooms by the brook! I heard them singing prettily and loud, hymns of our blessed Lady——"
"She heard a throstle singing by the brook," whispered the châtelaine of Aulnes. Her breath was delicately fragrant on his cheek.
Against the grey dusk at the window she looked to him like a slim spirit returned to haunt the halls of Aulnes—some graceful shade come back out of the hazy and forgotten years of gallantry and courts and battles—the exquisite apparation of that golden time before the Vendée drowned and washed it out in blood.
"I am so glad you came," she said. "I have not felt so calm, so confident, in months."
Old Anne of Fäouette laid them fresh nap[pg 124]kins and set two crystal bowls beside them and filled the bowls with fresh water from the moat.
"Ho fois!" she said, "love and the heart may change, but not the Woods of Aulnes; they never change—they never change.... The golden people of Ker-Ys come out of the sea to walk among the trees."
The Countess whispered: "She has seen the sunbeams slanting through the trees."
"Vrai, c'est moi, Anne Le Bihan, qui vous dites cela, mon Capitaine! And, in the Woods of Aulnes the werewolf prowls. I have seen him, gallant gentleman. He walks upright, and, in his head, he has only eyes; no mouth, no teeth, no nostrils, and no hair—the Loup-Garou!—O Lady of Aulnes, adored and blessed, protect us from the Loup-Barou!"
The Countess said again to him: "I have not felt so confident, so content, so full of faith in months——"
A far faint clamour came to their ears; high in the fading sky above the forest vast clouds of wild fowl rose like smoke, whirling, circling, swinging wide, drifting against[pg 125] the dying light of day, southward toward the sea.