The few minutes of his absence had wrought a change. His garden was covered, and the flood had dissolved or overleaped the dyke of the corn-field, and was flowing around his shocks of wheat.
Nothing could possibly be done for the preservation of his harvest. He stationed himself on the bench at his door, and watched the water rise, and upset his sheaves, and float them off. Some went down the river, some congregated in an eddy, and spun about; others accumulating behind them, wedged them together, and formed a raft of straw.
‘Go!’ shouted he to his corn-sheaves; ‘sodden and spoiled, I care not if ye remain. Go! now I must starve outright, and Gabrielle--she must starve too.’
Instantly it occurred to him that she was at the church, and would need protection and assistance in returning.
He went inside and put on his coat, took a strong pole in his hand, and bent his steps towards the foot-bridge. It was not washed away, but it was under water. He felt for it with the pole, found it, and crossed cautiously. Then he took the road to La Couture. Many people met him. Recovered from their alarm, their tongues were loosened, and they were detailing their impressions of the storm to one another. André accosted a neighbour, and asked him if he had seen Gabrielle. He had not; but supposed she was behind;--many, he said, were still in the churchyard, waiting for the flood to subside.
Some old women, who lived in a cottage only a hundred paces beyond the stile across which André strode into the road from his islet, now came towards him.
‘Neighbour Elizabeth, have you seen my child?’
A little farther on he met a girl-friend of Gabrielle’s, in white, with her wreath somewhat faded, and her candle extinguished.
‘I do not know, father André; I have been looking for her amongst the girls of our society, but I could not find her.’
‘Do you think she is still in the church?’
‘That may be, but I do not think it is likely; you know that the lightning struck the spire.’
‘No; but we were all dreadfully frightened.’
Matthias pushed on. He questioned all who passed, but could gain no tidings of Gabrielle. Several, it is true, had seen her in the procession; some had noticed her in the church; but none remembered to have observed her after the fall of the lightning.