About dusk we found ourselves somewhere on the borders of Lower Champagne, near a large forest, amid the dingles of which we had lost the right path; and now the darkening clouds, with the oppression of the atmosphere, forewarned us of what was approaching. No house or village appeared in sight; every way the forest tracks seemed to be lost in a wilderness of trees. On a rock overhanging the forest stood an old castle, at which we expected to find shelter or a guide; but it proved to be a roofless ruin, destroyed probably in the wars of the League: and two or three men, whom we had seen lurking near it, disappeared on our approach, and accorded no response to my shouts. This suggested the unpleasant idea of robbers; and my hitherto brave little companion grew pale as the darkness increased, and I carefully examined the pistols in my girdle and the petronels at my saddle-bow. In her anxiety Nicola forgot her displeasure, and prattled and spoke to me again, keeping her horse close to my stirrup; for every minute my hand was required to catch her bridle, as the brambles and stones rendered the animal restive and liable to stumble. Once a wolf bayed near us, and she uttered a faint scream. The French forests were full of those animals. De Mezeray tells us that, in 1437, wolves occasionally darted through the city barriers, and devoured children in the Rue St. Antoine at Paris; and all the world knows of 'the terrible wild beast' which appeared in the forest of Fontainebleau and ate one hundred and forty persons alive, before it was killed by M. de Brissac and twelve of the king's musketeers.* * So lately as 1765, the forest of Soissons was full of wolves. A ordinance of Henry III. directed the lords of manors to have a general hunt every third month. 'Do not be alarmed, dear Nicola,' said I, 'for I have four bullets and my dagger at your service.' 'These will avail you little, M. Blane, against a herd of wolves.' 'Well--a herd might, perhaps, prove rather troublesome!' 'Or a band of robbers--like those of Guillirez!' 'The devil! My dear mademoiselle, do not think of such things: yet I would rather face the robbers than the wolves.' 'Indeed! do you hold your life a thing of little price?' 'Nay; I hold it, dear Nicola, exactly at the value your interest in me gives it.' 'A very pretty compliment, M. Blane; but do not press my hand so, pray: and ah, my heaven! there is lightning coming to increase our annoyances! Moreover, this forest is haunted!' 'By what?' 'A spectre.' 'The deuce, mademoiselle! a real spectre?' 'Yes.' 'Come now, Nicola!' 'A tall, lean, ghastly man with a dreadful visage.' 'With wolves, robbers, and spectres for companions--a dark forest, rain, thunder, and wind--we shall pass a pleasant night! now the torrent begins to patter on the leaves! my poor little Nicola, you will be quite drenched.'