“Monsieur l’abbe,” said Zelie, “my husband’s temper is so soured I don’t know what he mightn’t do.  Until now he’s been a child; but for the last two months he’s not the same man.  To get angry enough to strike me—­me, so gentle!  There must be something dreadful the matter to change him like that.  You’ll find him among the rocks; he spends all his time there,—­doing what, I’d like to know?”

In spite of the heat (it was then September, 1836), the abbe crossed the canal and took a path which led to the base of one of the rocks, where he saw Minoret.

“You are greatly troubled, Monsieur Minoret,” said the priest going up to him.  “You belong to me because you suffer.  Unhappily, I come to increase your pain.  Ursula had a terrible dream last night.  Your uncle lifted the stone from his grave and came forth to prophecy a great disaster in your family.  I certainly am not here to frighten you; but you ought to know what he said—­”

“I can’t be easy anywhere, Monsieur Chaperon, not even among these rocks, and I’m sure I don’t want to know anything that is going on in another world.”

“Then I will leave you, monsieur; I did not take this hot walk for pleasure,” said the abbe, mopping his forehead.

“Well, what do you want to say?” demanded Minoret.

“You are threatened with the loss of your son.  If the dead man told things that you alone know, one must needs tremble when he tells things that no one can know till they happen.  Make restitution, I say, make restitution.  Don’t damn your soul for a little money.”

“Restitution of what?”

“The fortune the doctor intended for Ursula.  You took those three certificates—­I know it now.  You began by persecuting that poor girl, and you end by offering her a fortune; you have stumbled into lies, you have tangled yourself up in this net, and you are taking false steps every day.  You are very clumsy and unskilful; your accomplice Goupil has served you ill; he simply laughs at you.  Make haste and clear your mind, for you are watched by intelligent and penetrating eyes,—­those of Ursula’s friends.  Make restitution! and if you do not save your son (who may not really be threatened), you will save your soul, and you will save your honor.  Do you believe that in a society like ours, in a little town like this, where everybody’s eyes are everywhere, and all things are guessed and all things are known, you can long hide a stolen fortune?  Come, my son, an innocent man wouldn’t have let me talk so long.”

“Go to the devil!” cried Minoret.  “I don’t know what you all mean by persecuting me.  I prefer these stones—­they leave me in peace.”

“Farewell, then; I have warned you.  Neither the poor girl nor I have said a single word about this to any living person.  But take care —­there is a man who has his eye upon you.  May God have pity upon you!”