In the mean while, the first occupant of the inn continued, with that air of self-satisfied indifference which has been a part of the affectation of the pampered and insolent in all ages, to look at nothing but the proceedings of some rebellious sticks upon the hearth, which resisted all the soft persuasions of the woman whom the hostess had left to tend the savoury messes at the fire, while she herself aided her husband in receiving, like Hope, her new visiters with false promises. The occupant of the chimney-corner looked neither to the right nor to the left; and, to have judged by his countenance, one would have supposed that he heard not one sound of all the many that were stirring around him, nor had a greater interest in anything on earth than in the cooking of a steak of roe venison. Even when Bernard de Rohan advanced with his arms jingling as he trod, and, after a momentary glance at him, laid hold of his arm with a friendly smile, the stranger merely turned round, with a look of perfect unconcern, to see who it was that, either in enmity or good-fellowship, thus called his attention. When he saw who it was, however, he became more animated, and, rising with a smile, shook hands with him warmly. "Ha! Bernard de Rohan!" he exclaimed, "I can hardly believe my eyes. Why, baron, who would have thought to meet you thus in a Savoyard inn? Have you then quitted Italy to follow Guise, and meet the enemy in the North? You have not thrown by the spear and sword, I see! But, in a word, say what do you here?" "Why, to say truth," replied the other, "nothing is now to be done beyond the Apennines; and though, as you might well know, after all that occurred at Civita, I am as little likely to follow Guise as a greyhound is to hunt in company with a lion, yet there is no use in staying behind when he has not only left the field himself, but taken all his forces with him. I am tired of this warfare, too! I long for some repose. I have now been three years absent from France, and I have a yearning to see my own land once more." "Yes, and some fair dame therein," rejoined his companion. "Is it not so, De Rohan? I remember well you seemed to have but small delight in the bright eyes of the young Italians, and I often thought that it must be some remembered love of the past that kept you thus heart-whole." "It may be so, count," replied Bernard, gayly. "What man is there without a lady-love? If there be one, he is neither fit for war nor peace: he wants the great excitement to glory, and courtesy, and great deeds. But, even had it not been for that, Meyrand," he added, more seriously, "I love the ladies of my own land best. Bright looks are little to me without true hearts, and beauty but a frail substitute for goodness." "Pshaw, Sir Moralizer!" cried his companion; "beauty is a woman's best possession till she be old; and then, when she has done with the Graces, let her take up with the Virtues, or the Muses, or anything else she likes."