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THE DRAWING OF THE LOT.
Somehow or other Henri freed himself at last. He said in a kind of choked whisper, "Remember my words. Good-bye, and God—your God—bless you." One last lingering look, and he turned away, ran quickly down the sloping corn-field, and was soon lost to sight.
But he did not take the path that Clémence supposed. He returned to the village by a circuitous route, and about midnight tapped gently at the curé's door. The priest was evidently on the watch, for he opened the door and admitted him at once, then shut and bolted it, and extinguished the light he had kept burning in his window as a guide to his expected guest.
