were actually on their way back to their own part of France. "And so his lordship is liberated?" said Edward, with a slight touch of bitterness in his tone; for he could not imagine such an event to have happened so suddenly that Montagu, who had found time to take care of common servants, had none to bestow a thought on him. "You are going back to Aunis, you say. Well, my good fellows, if you have a mind for such a companion, I will go with you. I will be no charge to you, for I have money enough with me. All I want is a horse and some arms." "Charge, Master Ned!" exclaimed Pierrot, in a burst of semi-drunken enthusiasm. "What care we about charges? If it were the last crown I had in the world, I would share it with you. And as to a horse, here, get upon mine. I can walk well enough to that big village there, which they say is called Vitell. But here; let me take the pistols out of the holsters. I won't trust you with them, by the Lord!" "Nonsense!" answered Edward. "I will not use them, man, upon my honor." "No, no," said Pierrot, deliberately taking the pistols from his saddle-bow. "If once you get your hand upon the stock, there is no knowing where the bullets may go flying; and my legs have got lead enough in them already this morning." "Your head has got brandy enough in it," said Jacques Beaupré: "that's what puts the lead in your heels. Here; let me hold the horse while our young master mounts, or you'll be down with your nose in the water and set the fountain boiling." "If all the water in the world could wash it white," answered Pierrot, "I would tumble into a pond every day. It is that nose of mine gets me a bad reputation and makes men say I drink. Why, every man drinks. It entirely depends upon what men drink. But, after all, I think I had better try the cold water; for somehow I have a notion if I try to walk to Vitell with nothing but brandy in my stomach I shall make the distance three times as long with zigzags and vagaries." Thus saying, while Edward mounted, very well pleased with some relief to his tired legs, Pierrot knelt down by the side of a tolerably deep little pool formed by the rivulet at the side of the road, and, putting his lips to the clear water, took a deep draught. Jacques Beaupré, however, seemed to think that the water had better be applied externally also, and, giving him a push with his foot, sent him headlong into the pool. The good man started up with a furious look; but we have already seen the singular effect which liquor had upon poor Pierrot la Grange,--an effect quite contrary to that which it produces on most men. The reader will not be surprised, then, that, though really angry, Pierrot sought no vengeance upon his assailant.