There she lost sight of him--the underwood was too thick.

But, after a few minutes, the gaze of the inquisitive woman was rewarded by the appearance of a dark object emerging from the copse, and defining itself on the bright pasture land beyond.

"Monsieur le Cure is going to La Thuiliere," thought she, and with this half-satisfaction she descended to her daily occupations.
It was true, the Abbe Pernot was walking, as fast as he could, to the Vincart farm, as unmindful of the dew that tarnished his shoe-buckles as of the thorns which attacked his calves.

He had that within him which spurred him on, and rendered him unconscious of the accidents on his path.

Never, during his twenty-five years of priestly office, had a more difficult question embarrassed his conscience.