At length, however, the sound of a horse's feet was heard approaching quickly towards him, and, certain that he must now pass that way, the Statesman drew in his rein, and stood with his eyes intently fixed upon the spot where the road verged into the forest. As there was still a considerable descent from the spot where Chavigni paused to the bottom of the valley, the sound was heard for a long time coming nearer and nearer before any one appeared. At length, however, the horseman came in sight, presenting to the glad eyes of the Statesman the identical figure of the Italian, Villa Grande, with his long sword, extensive mustaches, and a pair of heavy pistols at his saddle-bow. Chavigni doubted not that to possess himself of the papers which the Italian carried, would require a desperate struggle, but without a moment's hesitation he drew his sword, and galloped on to attack him. No sooner had Villa Grande perceived a stranger on the road before him, than he reined in his horse; but now, as Chavigni rode on full speed towards him with a menacing attitude and drawn sword, the Italian, in his terror, conceived at once that it was a robber, and throwing himself to the ground in mortal fear, he fell on his knees, exclaiming--"I will give it you all--every ducat, only spare my life!" "Rise, rise! cowardly villain!" cried Chavigni, catching the bridle of the Italian's horse, which was starting away with a wild toss of the head, as the Statesman rode up;--"rise, Sir Poltroon! do you not know me?" "Know you! know you!" exclaimed Villa Grande, gazing wildly at Chavigni. "Oh, Monseigneur, is it you? How you frightened me!" But Villa Grande, who had trembled sufficiently when he thought it was a robber, trembled ten times more than ever as he recognised the Statesman; and he could scarcely find strength in his knees to raise himself from the ground. "Rise, Sir!" exclaimed Chavigni impatiently; "and instantly give me the treaty." "Treaty!" cried Villa Grande, still trembling, but endeavouring to put on a look of astonishment. "What treaty does Monseigneur mean? I know of no treaty." "Lying slave!" exclaimed Chavigni, striking him with the flat side of his sword; "if you do not produce it within ten seconds of time, by Heaven I will cut it out of your base cowardly heart!" "But if I do----" said the Italian, seeing there was no escape left. "Come, Sir," cried the Statesman; "no _buts_ for me. If you stand shuffling one minute more, I will run my sword through you, and search for it on your carcase myself." "Well, well! Monseigneur, I see you know it all, and therefore it will be no stain on my honour if I give it to you." "Honour!" cried Chavigni, with a scoff.--"Come, Sir, the treaty."