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He stood without, drumming with his fist on the doorpost. Then he turned to listen. Some one was approaching from the darkness of the trees. But it was only the driver following sullenly on foot. "Here!" said the priest, recognizing him. "Go to your horses!" As he spoke he was already untying one of the stable-lanterns that swung at the lamp-bracket.
"We do squint each through his loophole, And then dream broad heaven Is but the patch we see." It was almost dark when the abbe's carriage reached the valley, and the driver paused to light the two stable-lanterns tied with string to the dilapidated lamp-brackets. The abbe was impatient, and fidgeted in his seat.
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