Page 539 sur 896

"Good!" said the sleeper, rising on his elbow. "Two leagues

beyond the summit of the hill?"

"About."

"About. Good!"

The mender of roads went home, with the dust going on before him

according to the set of the wind, and was soon at the fountain,

squeezing himself in among the lean kine brought there to drink,

and appearing even to whisper to them in his whispering to all

the village. When the village had taken its poor supper, it did

not creep to bed, as it usually did, but came out of doors again,

and remained there. A curious contagion of whispering was upon

it, and also, when it gathered together at the fountain in the

dark, another curious contagion of looking expectantly at the sky

in one direction only. Monsieur Gabelle, chief functionary of the

place, became uneasy; went out on his house-top alone, and looked

in that direction too; glanced down from behind his chimneys at

the darkening faces by the fountain below, and sent word to the

sacristan who kept the keys of the church, that there might be

need to ring the tocsin by-and-bye.