I took off my hat
to him reverently; but all at once he threw back his cowl, and I
saw--no monk, but, much altered, the good chaplain who had married
me to Alixe in the Chateau St. Louis. He had been hurt when he was
fired upon in the water; had escaped, however, got to shore, and
made his way into the woods. There he had met Mathilde, who led
him to her lonely home in this hill. Seeing the Tall Calvary, he
had conceived the idea of this disguise, and Mathilde had brought
him the robe for the purpose.
In a secluded cave I found Alixe with her father, caring for
him, for he was not yet wholly recovered from his injuries.
There was no waiting now. The ban of Church did not hold my
dear girl back, nor did her father do aught but smile when she
came laughing and weeping into my arms.
"Robert, O Robert, Robert!" she cried, and at first that was all
she could say.
The good Seigneur put out his hand to me beseechingly. I took
it, clasped it.
"The city?" he asked.
"Is ours," I answered.
"And my son--my son?"
I told him how, the night that the city was taken, the Chevalier
de la Darante and I had gone a sad journey in a boat to the Isle
of Orleans, and there, in the chapel yard, near to his father's
chateau, we had laid a brave and honest gentleman who died
fighting for his country.
By-and-bye, when their grief had a little abated, I took them
out into the sunshine.
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