The minutes wore heavily on; but at length the priest entered the
sacristy. Gilbert followed him out of the church to a very small house a
few paces off, within the shadow of the wood. The house, which was but
one story high, was divided into two rooms by a stone partition. In the
back room slept the pastor of the church, Father Omehr. The front room
contained a table and a bench. Father Omehr, for this was the name of
Gilbert's companion, struck a light and made the young man sit down upon
the bench, while he spread out upon the table some fruit and bread and
wine.

"Eat, my son," said the old man; "the wine is good and the bread is
quite fresh. These grapes are better than any in Hers."

Gilbert seemed inclined to dispute the last assertion; but the length
and vigor of his repast strongly confirmed the opinion expressed by his
host. The latter remained standing with his arms folded on his breast,
and regarded the youth with a smile, as he indulged the keen appetite
sharpened by the severe exercise of the day. The meal was eaten in
silence, save an occasional entreaty from Gilbert to his entertainer to
partake of his own cheer, and the refusal. The little lamp between them
shone upon two noble faces: in spite of the great disparity between
their ages, they were alike; not so much in feature as in the character
of the head.

The priest must have been near seventy. The top of his head was entirely
bald; yet the little hair left him, which grew behind in a semicircle,
from ear to ear, was only sprinkled with gray. He was tall and admirably
formed for strength and agility; and though his cheek was pale and
sunken, and his high broad forehead ploughed by many a heavy line, still
in his eye and lips and nose were visible the relics of a splendid