Bernard de Rohan made no direct reply, but asked whether the road they were taking did not lead him farther from that which he had afterward to travel. Assured, however, by the good innkeeper that it did not, he went on in silence, finding by the length of way that his companion had lost no time upon the previous journey he had made during the morning. At length Gandelot turned a little towards the north, up a smaller valley, which, winding away with many bends and angles, never exposed more than one or two hundred yards of hillside to the view at once. At the end of about a quarter of an hour after entering this dell, a solitary house presented itself, as desolate in appearance as well might be. It was old, and built of cold gray stone, with a roof of slates; and a low garden wall which surrounded it enclosed a space of ground amounting to perhaps an acre or an acre and a half, but in no degree impeded the view of the house. The hills in that spot were quite bare: much lower, indeed, than the scenery from which Bernard de Rohan had just come, but far more naked and arid. Not a shrub, not a tree was to be seen. Nothing but scanty turf, broken by scattered stones, with occasional crags here and there, covered the slopes; and, had it not been for those thin, short blades of grass, one might have fancied one's self in the world before the vegetable creation had been called into being. "You will find him there, my good young lord," said Gandelot, pointing forward to the house: "I will stay here. But you had better whistle, as you know how, when you go up, that he may know you are coming. If you find that you are not likely to come back before night--and it is getting somewhat late now--send me out word, and I will hie me home." "Nay, leave me, leave me, good Gandelot," replied the young cavalier. "I will find my way back: I never forget a path I have once trodden." Thus saying, he advanced towards the desolate-looking house which stood before him, and, at a short distance from it, imitated, as well as he could, that peculiar whistle which he had heard more than once among the companions of Corse de Leon. The sounds had scarcely issued from his lips ere the brigand himself appeared at the door, and, apparently without the slightest apprehension or hesitation, walked forward to meet him. He was habited in the same large cloak and hat which he had worn on the night when Bernard de Rohan first beheld him, so that the young nobleman could plainly see he bore his left arm supported by a bandage from his neck. The moment they met he grasped Bernard warmly by the hand, saying, "So you are living! you are living! I never thought we should see each other again in this world, though I did think we might meet in that where the compensations are reserved to confound the workings of the great bad spirit to whom this earth is given up for evil. But I fell into a sad mistake, and have let your sweet lady go away in the belief that you are dead."