The people listened without comment. They had all
suffered so much that there was no room left in their hearts for
new grief, but when she told them of the boat and her lame
husband they rejoiced with her that she had the happiness at
least of a united family. There was plenty of room in their
hearts for joy! "Come with us," they said. "We cannot be poorer.
Our cattle are driven away; we have no strong laborers to till
our fields, no seeds to plant in them. We live in one wing and
the outhouses of the Chateau, but hope is not yet dead, and your
hands are strong. Your husband, too, can help, and we shall be at
least no worse off for your being here."
Grand'mere spoke. "We live in the cow-stalls of the stable," said
she. "It is not so bad; there is still hay in the loft, and there
are other stalls not occupied."
Mother Meraut crossed herself. "If the Blessed Mother of Our Lord
could live in a stable," she said, "such shelter is surely good
enough for us."
Father Meraut, sitting patiently in the boat, was surprise, a
little later as he looked anxiously toward the village, to see a
crowd of people coming toward him, waving caps and hands in
salutation. Before the others ran Pierre and Pierrette, and when
they reached him they poured forth a jumble of excited words,
from which he was able to gather that Grandpere and Grand'mere
were alive and well, and that there was a place for them to stay.
He got out of the boat to greet the people, and their willing
hands took the bundles and helped hide the Ark in the bushes, and
the whole company then started back to the Chateau, Grandpere
lingering behind the others to keep pace with the slow progress
of Father Meraut.
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