"Monsieur Gamache, believe me, I did not mean it like that. It is only that I am grateful to you for the bait and for saving me the trout. It was truly miraculous. Yes, that is the word--miraculous." "Well, Jean, that is better. You have some of the politeness of your father, as I see. Ah, he was a valiant man and a good friend." "My father?" said Jean, in surprise. "I do not understand. He never spoke of it." "Certainly not. That is what I say. He was a good friend and could keep a secret." "A secret, Monsieur Gamache? That is interesting. But it is getting late and I must be going home. It was a good day’s fishing. My pannier is full and I have that big one as well. But will you not keep him, Monsieur? He certainly belongs to you." "But no, Jean; it is your fish, and I am glad that I had the honour of helping to catch him. But do not hurry, my young friend. Sit down a minute. I will tell you something." Somewhat reluctantly, but without any fear of the old man, who was evidently disposed to be friendly, Jean sat beside him on the rock and listened to the story of former days before the family Giroux came to the parish of St. Placide. "Your father, Jean, as you know, was a native of the parish of Chateau Richer, on the other side of those mountains. And I, as you do not know, lived in the parish of Ste. Famille on the other side of the Channel, in the Isle of Orleans--the Isle of Sorcerers, as they call it. It was not an isle of sorcerers at all, but I will tell you what it was--an isle of smugglers. Yes, smugglers. When the good people of Chateau, there below, saw those lights on a dark night moving to and fro on the long marsh, gleaming fitfully, like fireflies, they crossed themselves, the simpletons, and muttered, ’will-o’-the-wisps,’ ’devil’s fire,’ ’sorcerers!’ Ha! Ha! What foolishness! They were smugglers with lanterns going to meet a bateau at high tide, carrying casks of brandy and French wines, packages of tobacco, bales of silk, and all that. Nobody came near them, you may be sure. Very convenient, the Isle of Sorcerers, for smugglers, and there were fine hiding-places in the long marsh and on the side of the hill. Caves? Oh, yes, here and there. I wonder if I could find them now. Ah, those were days!" "But you were no smuggler, Monsieur Gamache, nor my father either. Impossible."