"A thousand thanks," I replied; "but, thanks to your good nature, I am already well informed upon most topics concerning which I desired information, and there only remains one question, which I have made up my mind _not_ to ask." "Why?" "Because it would appear too impertinent. However, if you remain here I confess I cannot answer for myself. I give you fair warning!" "Well, then, go on. Curiosity unsatisfied is an uncomfortable companion, and awakens all kinds of suppositions; and two, at least, out of every three guesses concerning a fact are sure to be quite wide of the mark, and more likely to prejudice the object than to arrive at the truth concerning it." "Well, you may rest easy. My worst suspicions concerning you lead me to regard you as a sorcerer!" The young man laughed loudly. "The devil! You have inoculated me with some of your curiosity: tell me why, I entreat you--speak out!" "Well, then, you have had the kindness to clear up many things which were before obscure to me; but one thing you did not touch upon. You have shown me your beautiful weapons, which I should like to examine again before my departure." "Granted. That's one reason." "You have explained to me the inscriptions upon the carbines." "That's another reason." "You have made it clear to me that, thanks to the phenomenon of your birth, you always experience--although far away from him, the same sensations that agitate your brother, and no doubt he feels equally your troubles." "That is a third reason for your belief in my sorcery!" "Yes, but Madame de Franchi, when referring to the sadness you lately have experienced, and which leads you to think that some misfortune threatens your brother, asked you if you were sure he were not dead, and you replied 'No, for then I should have seen him.'" "Yes, I remember I did say so." "Well, then, if such an explanation may be entrusted to a stranger, will you explain to me how this could happen?" The young man's face had assumed a very grave expression as I was speaking, and I hesitated to pronounce the last words. He was silent for a moment after I ceased to speak, and I said-- "I am afraid that I have been too indiscreet; pray forget that I spoke on the subject at all." "No," he replied, quietly; "no, but you are a man of the world, and as such inclined to be somewhat incredulous. So, you see, I am rather afraid you will treat as a superstition an old family tradition which has been handed down for centuries." "Listen," I said. "I can declare one thing, and that is that no one is more easily convinced than I am on all questions of legendary or traditionary lore--and I am always ready to give credence to things regarded as impossible!" "So you believe in ghosts?" "Do you wish to hear me tell how I saw one?" "Yes, that will encourage me." "My father died in 1807, when I was three and a-half years old. When the doctor announced his speedy death I was sent away to the house of an old cousin in the country.