"Ah, it will not be long before we shall have no more posts in France. The horses are all gone; one worth three hundred francs costs six hundred, and the price of fodder is beyond all reason. I used to be a postmaster; and now, you see, I keep a tavern. Out of thirteen hundred and thirteen postmasters, two hundred have resigned. Have you been travelling according to the new tariff, citizen?" "You mean the tariff of the 1st of May? Yes." "Twenty sous a post for a carriage, twelve for a gig, five for a van. Did you not buy this horse at Alençon?" "Yes." "And you have been travelling all day?" "Yes, since dawn." "And yesterday?" "And the day before." "I should think so. You came by the way of Domfront and Mortain." "And Avranches." "You had better take my advice, and rest, citizen. Are you not tired? Your horse certainly is." "Horses may be tired, but men have no right to give way to fatigue." Again the host gazed at the traveller, whose face, grave, calm, and severe, was framed by gray hair. Casting a glance along the road, that was deserted as far as the eye could reach, he said,-- "And so you are travelling alone." "I have an escort." "Where is it?" "My sabre and pistols." The innkeeper went for a pail of water; and while he was watering the horse he contemplated the traveller, saying to himself, "He looks like a priest, all the same." The rider continued,-- "You say there is fighting at Dol?" "Yes. They are just about ready to begin." "Who is fighting?" "One ci-devant against another." "How is that?" "I mean that the ci-devant who is a Republican is fighting against another who takes sides with the king." "But there is no longer a king." "There is the little fellow. But the strangest part is that the two ci-devants are related to each other." Here the rider listened attentively, while the innkeeper continued:-- "One is a young man, and the other an old one. It is the grand-nephew fighting against his great-uncle. The uncle is a Royalist, while the nephew is a patriot; the uncle commands the Whites, the nephew the Blues. Ah! they will show no mercy to each other, you may be sure! It is a war to death!" "Death?" "Yes, citizen. Perhaps you might like to see the polite speeches they fling at each other's head. Here is a placard, which the old man has managed to post on all the houses and trees, and which I found had been stuck on my very door." The host held up his lantern to a square bit of paper glued upon one of the panels of his door, and as it was written in very large characters, the rider was able to read it as he sat in his saddle:-- "The Marquis de Lantenac has the honor to inform his grand-nephew the Viscount Gauvain that if the Marquis is so fortunate as to take him prisoner, M. le Viscount may rest assured that he will be speedily shot." "And here is the reply," continued the innkeeper.