"I go to a baptism at St. Jean-du-Pied, and cannot return before sun-down. Meet me at the cross on the hill-side at six o'clock, as I fear to pass through the valley alone in the dark. Marie."
As he studied the writing, the old woman's mumblings became more articulate. She was saying, "'Twas the child Conan should have brought it an hour ago. But he is ever good-for-nothing, and forgot it."
Antoine looked at the sun, which was already westering, and perceived that he must set out to meet Marie in half-an-hour. He got up and walked slowly towards the sandy shore of the little inlet, wide and wet at low tide, on the other side of which lay his own home. He walked slowly, but he felt as if he were hurrying at a headlong pace. The thought kept going round and round in his brain like a little torturing wheel, which nothing would stop, that after all Marie was going to the Dwarf's Valley this evening, just as Geoffroi had said. Geoffroi's words were still sounding in his ears, and his right hand was clenched, as he had clenched it when the whirlwind of anger first convulsed him.
He entered his own cottage, hardly knowing what he did.
Old Aimée was bending over the cauldron, cutting up cabbage for the soup.
"Good-bye, Grandmother," he said. "I am going to the Dwarf's Valley."
Aimée looked up at him out of her keen old eyes.
"And why are you going there in the dark?" she said, "'Tis an evil meeting place after the sun has set."
"Why do you say meeting place, Grandmother Whom do you think I am going to meet there?"
"The blessed Saints protect you," she replied, "less you should meet Whom you would not."