"What? Is he here?" I said in surprise. "I saw him at Cahors less than three hours ago."
"Such news gives a man wings," Father Benôit answered with energy. "I say again, it has come. It has come, M. le Vicomte."
"Something," I said prudently.
"Everything," he answered confidently. "The mob took the Bastille, but who headed them? The soldiers; the Garde Française. Well, M. le Vicomte, if the army cannot be trusted, there is an end of abuses, an end of exemptions, of extortions, of bread famines, of Foulons and Berthiers, of grinding the faces of the poor, of----"
The Curé's list was not half exhausted when I cut it short. "But if the army is with the mob, where will things stop?" I said wearily.
"We must see to that," he answered.
"Come and sup with me," I said, "I have something to tell you, and more to ask you."
He assented gladly. "For there will be no sleep for me to-night," he said, his eye sparkling. "This is great news, glorious news, M. le Vicomte. Your father would have heard it with joy."
"And M. de Launay?" I said as I dismounted.
"There can be no change without suffering," he answered stoutly, though his face fell a little. "His fathers sinned, and he has paid the penalty. But God rest his soul! I have heard that he was a good man."