But the priest's face was grave as he let the boys lead him into the
narrow bedchamber where they slept -- a room bare indeed of such things
as our eyes would seek, but which for the times was commodious and
comfortable enough. He was pondering in his mind what step must now be
taken, for it seemed to him as though the place of safety in the mill in
which their mother had left her sons could hide them no longer. Go they
must, of that he felt well assured; but where? That was a question less
easily answered offhand.

"Father," began Gaston eagerly, so soon as the door had closed behind
the three, and Raymond had coaxed the dim taper into its feeble flicker
-- "Father, we have come to thee for counsel -- for help. Father, chide
us not, nor call us ingrate; but it has come to this with us -- we can
no longer brook this tame and idle life. We are not of the peasant
stock; why must we live the peasant life? Father, we long to be up and
doing -- to spread our wings for a wider flight. We know that those who
bear our name are not hiding their heads in lowly cots; we know that our
sires have been soldiers and statesmen in the days that are past. Are we
then to hide our heads here till the snows of age gather upon them? Are
we, of all our race, to live and die obscure, unknown? Father, we cannot
stand it; it shall not be! To thee we come to ask more of ourselves than
yet we know. To thee our mother commended us in her last moments; to
thee she bid us look in days to come when we needed guidance and help.
Wherefore to thee we have come now, when we feel that there must surely
be an end to all of this. Tell us, Father, of our sire; tell us of our
kinsfolk. Where be they? Where may we seek them? I trow thou knowest
all. Then tell us, I beseech thee tell us freely all there is to know."

The good priest raised his eyes and thoughtfully scanned the faces of
the two eager youths. Gaston was actually shivering with repressed