every moment. Just so dressed and accoutred she too had seen her husband pass by.
"And was there nothing out of the common noticeable about your father, tell me?"
"He was very pale," said the elder.
"Oh! yes, very, very pale," added the younger, "like a dead man."
All present shuddered, mother. Abbé, Confessor; so acute was the note of terror in the child's words.
"Which way was he going?" asked the Marquise at last in a voice that she strove in vain to steady.
"To the Château," replied the elder boy.
"I looked round,"' said the younger, " as I ran, and I saw him going up the great steps to the front door."
"Do you hear? do you hear?" faltered the distracted mother in the Monk's ear.
"Yes, Madame, I hear; but I confess I do not understand. How should Monsieur de Chauvelin have passed in at the gate on foot without stopping to greet you? How should he have walked by his sons without stopping a second time? Then how should he have entered the house without any of the domestics noticing him, without his asking for anyone."
"You are right," said the Abbé, "what you point out is obviously true."
"In any case," went on Père Delar, "it can easily be put to the test."
"We will go and find out," cried the two children, starting to run to the Chateau.
"And I will go too," declared the Abbé.
"And I, too," faltered the Marquise.
"Madame," protested the Monk, "you are agitated and white with terror; even if it should be Monsieur de Chauvelin, granting this to be possible, what is there to be afraid of?"
"Father," returned the Marquise, looking in the Monk's face, " his coming thus, supposing he has come, mysteriously and alone, does it not strike you as very extraordinary?"
"The more reason for thinking we have all made a mistake. Doubtless some stranger has slipped in, perhaps a burglar."
"But a burglar, let him be as expert as he may," objected the Abbe, " has a body, and this body you and I should have seen, Father. But this is just the unaccountable part of it, that Madame la Marquise and my two pupils saw him, while we, and only we, saw nothing,"
"No matter," returned the Monk; "whichever proves to be true, it would be best perhaps for Madame la Marquise and her children to withdraw to the Orangery, while we make our way to the Château. We will call the servants together and make sure of what has occurred. Now, Madame."
The Marquise was at the end of her strength, and obeyed mechanically. She retired to the Orangery along with her two sons, but without once losing sight of the Château windows. Arrived at the shelter indicated, she fell on her knees, saying:
"We can pray at any rate; there is a soul in pain at this moment urging me to pray."
Meantime the Monk and the Abbé had pursued their way to the Chateau. Arrived within sight of the main entrance, they had halted to debate the question whether they should not first go round to the offices and summon the domestics, at that hour assembled at supper, to join them in making an exploration of the house.
The suggestion had emanated from the prudent Monk, and the Abbé was on the point of agreeing to it, when they saw a small side-door open and Bonbonne appear at it. The old Intendant came running towards them as fast as his advanced age allowed. He was pale and trembling,—gesticulating violently and muttering to himself as he advanced.
"What is the matter?" asked the Abbé, stepping forward to meet him.
"Oh God! Oh God!" was all Bonbonne could articulate at first.
"What has happened to you?" questioned the Monk.
"What has happened to me? I have seen an awful apparition."
Monk and Tutor exchanged glances.
"An apparition!" echoed the former incredulously.
"Come, come, it is an impossibility," said the Abbé.
"It is a fact, I tell you," insisted Bonbonne.
"And what was the apparition? tell us that."
"Yes, what did you see?"
