Follet was evidently attentive to this peroration, turning round
his ear in a sensible attitude, and advancing his nose to the
apples. As Beranger held them out to him, the other boy clutched
his shaggy forelock so effectually that the start back did not
shake him off, and the next moment Beranger was on his back.

'And I, Monsieur, what shall I do?'

'Thou, Landry? I know. Speed like a hare, lock the avenue gate,
and hide the key. That will delay them a long time. Off now,
Follet.'

Beranger and Follet understood one another far too well to care
about such trifles as saddle and bridle, and off they went through
green grassy balks dividing the fields, or across the stubble,
till, about three miles from the castle, they came to a narrow
valley, dipping so suddenly between the hills that it could hardly
have been suspected by one unaware of its locality, and the sides
were dotted with copsewood, which entirely hid the bottom.
Beranger guided his pony to a winding path that led down the steep
side of the valley, already hearing the cadence of a loud, chanting
voice, throwing out its sounds over the assembly, whence arose
assenting hums over an undercurrent of sobs, as though the
excitable French assembly were strongly affected.

The thicket was so close that Beranger was almost among the
congregation before he could see more than a passing glimpse of a
sea of heads. Stout, ruddy, Norman peasants, and high white-capped
women, mingled with a few soberly-clad townsfolk, almost all with
the grave, steadfast cast of countenance imparted by unresisted