"I have already told you. We had to decide between the château of my former comrade or the cottage of the poor fellow who was to have been our guide,--between luxury and a princely house with poor security, and a narrow cottage, bad beds, buckwheat bread, and absolute safety. God himself has decided the matter. We have no choice; we must take the insecure comfort." "But you think the château is not safe?" "The château belongs to a friend of my childhood, whose father was made a baron by the Restoration. The father is dead, and the widow and son are now living in the château. If the son were alone, I should have no anxiety. He is rather weak, but his heart is sound. It is his mother I fear; she is selfish and ambitious, and I could not trust her." "Oh, pooh! just for one night! You are not adventurous, Rameau-d'or." "Yes I am, on my own account; but I am answerable to France, or at any rate, to my party for the life of Ma--" "For Petit-Pierre. Ah, Rameau-d'or, that is the tenth forfeit you owe me since we started." "It shall be the last, Ma--Petit-Pierre, I should say. In future I will think of you by no other name, and in no other relation than that of my brother." "Come, then; let us go to the château. I am so weary that I would ask shelter of an ogress,--if there were any." "We'll take a crossroad, which will carry us there in ten minutes," said the young man. "Seat yourself more comfortably in the saddle; I will walk before you, and you must follow me; otherwise we might miss the path, which is very faint." "Wait a moment," said Petit-Pierre, slipping from his horse. "Where are you going?" asked Rameau-d'or, anxiously. "You said your prayer beside that poor peasant, and I want to say mine." "Don't think of it!" "Yes, yes; he was a brave and honest man," persisted Petit-Pierre. "He would have risked his life for us; I may well offer a little prayer beside his body." Rameau-d'or raised his hat and stood aside to let his young companion pass. The lad, like Rameau-d'or, entered the cottage, took a branch of holly, dipped it in holy water, and sprinkled the body with it. Then he knelt down and prayed at the foot of the bed, after which he left the cottage, without exciting more attention than his companion had done. The elder helped Petit-Pierre to mount, and together, one in the saddle, the other on foot, they took their way silently across the fields and along an almost invisible path which led, as we have said, in a straight line to the château de la Logerie. They had hardly gone a hundred steps into the grounds when Rameau-d'or stopped short and laid his hand on the bridle of the horse. "What is it now?" asked Petit-Pierre. "I hear steps," said the young man. "Draw in behind those bushes; I will stand against this tree. They'll probably pass without seeing us."