"Would you choose another bottle, Sir?" demanded Gaultier; and as his companion nodded his head in token of assent, was about to proceed on this errand--with the laudable intention also of sharing all his newly arisen doubts and fears with his gentle help-mate, who, for her part, was busily engaged in the soft domestic duties of scolding the stable-boy and boxing the maid's ears. But the stranger stopped him, perhaps divining, and not very much approving, the aforesaid communication. He exclaimed, "_La Bourgeoise!_" in a tone of voice which overpowered all other noises: the abuse of the dame herself--the tears of the maid--the exculpation of the stable-boy--the cackle of the cocks and hens, which were on a visit in the parlour--and the barking of a prick-eared cur included. The fresh bottle soon stood upon the table; and while the hostess returned to her former tender avocations, the stranger, whose clear grey eye seemed reading deeply into Gaultier's heart, continued to drink from the scanty remains of his own bottle, leaving mine host to fill from that which was hitherto uncontaminated by any other touch than his own. This Gaultier did not fail to do, till such time as the last rays of the sun, which had continued to linger fondly amidst a flight of light feathery clouds overhead, had entirely left the sky, and all was grey. At that moment the stranger drew forth his purse, let it fall upon the table with a heavy sort of clinking sound, showing that the louis-d'ors within had hardly room to jostle against each other. It was a sound of comfortable plenty, which had something in it irresistibly attractive to the ears of Gaultier; and as he stood watching while the stranger insinuated his finger and thumb into the little leathern bag, drawing forth first one broad piece and then another, so splendid did the stranger's traffic with the Devil begin to appear in the eyes of the innkeeper, that he almost began to wish that he had been brought up a sorcerer also. The stranger quietly pushed the two pieces of gold across the table till they got within the innkeeper's sphere of attraction, when they became suddenly hurried towards him, with irresistible velocity, and were plunged into the abyss of a large pocket on his left side, close upon his heart. The stranger looked on with philosophic composure, as if considering some natural phenomenon, till such time as the operation was complete. "Now, Gaultier," cried he, "put on your beaver, and lead to the beginning of the Grove. I will find my way through it alone. But hark ye, say no word to your wife."