And of a truth they had good cause to shrink and tremble, an’ had they but then known that which was even now impending, to curse the very hour in which he or they were born--he to inflict, they to endure the last, worst outrages of feudal tyranny and wrong! But they as yet knew nothing, nor, save instinctively, foreboded anything; but he, with his keen, furtive, ever-roving glances, noted (what none less sly, suspicious, and acute, would have suspected) the secret and intuitive horror with which the peasantry of Castel de Roche d’or regarded him, and vowed at once within his secret soul that they should have good cause to curse him, and that speedily. His comrade, the young marquis, was, to the outward eye, a very different personage. Having barely reached his twenty-first year, he was as graceful and finely-framed a youth as ever sat a charger. His face, too, was very fine and regular, with the large, liquid, dark eyes, and deep, clear, olive tint, which are so common in the south of France. His hair was black as the raven’s wing, with the same purplish, metallic lustre gleaming over its glossy surface, and fell in long, wavy, uncurled masses over the collar of the quilted gambison of rose-colored silk, which he wore under a shirt of flexible chain-mail, polished so brilliantly, that it flashed and sparkled in the morning sunbeams like a network of diamonds. The ordinary expression of his countenance was grave, calm, and melancholy; yet it was impassive and cold, rather than thoughtful and imaginative, while there was an occasional flashing light in the sleepy eye, and a gleam of almost fierce intelligence in all the features, and a strange, animal curl of the pale lips, which seemed to tell that there lurked beneath that cold exterior a volcano of fierce and fiery passions, ready at any instant to leap into life, and consume whosoever should oppose his will. The keen observer of humanity would have pronounced him one cold, rather than collected; selfish at once, and careless of the rights and happiness of others; sluggish, perhaps, and difficult to arouse, but, once aroused, impetuous, and of indomitable will--truly a fearful combination! When the company had arrived within thirty or forty paces of the bridal-party, the villagers threw up their caps into the air, and raised a loud and joyous exclamation--“Vive Canillac! vive Canillac! Vive le beau marquis de Roche d’or!”--and, for the moment, the boy’s face lighted up with a gleam of warm and honest feeling--gratification at the welcome of his people, and something of real sympathy with their condition.