“Come, my dear fellow,” he said, “do not look so grave. We have been endeavouring to raise the Devil and have made a failure of it, that is all.” “A stale game,” said Luc scornfully. “And you were profaning the dead, Monsieur.” “A peasant! A heretic!” cried the other, with an instant return of haughtiness. “And who are you to call me to account?” At this the priest touched him on the arm, and he added in a quiet tone, “You are scarcely a spy, Monsieur.” “No,” said Luc wearily. His anger had changed into mere disgust. “No--you know you were doing an illegal thing, a foolish thing, and a horrible thing; but I am no judge of your actions. I will forget you, Monsieur. Only I ask you to give that poor creature decent burial.” He was turning away when the other caught him by the sleeve. “Who are you?” he asked curiously. “I should like to know you. You speak like M. de Voltaire.” Luc had instantly resolved not to give his name. “I am a private citizen of Provence,” he answered, “and I have business in Avignon. The rain is over and I have had some rest, also I do not care to remain here, so I will now ride on to the town.” He made a grave bow and was turning away when the other again detained him. “You cannot ride to Avignon till it is light. Come with me--my name is Armand, Monsieur Armand--I do not ask yours.” “And I have not yours,” answered Luc. The other laughed. “Armand for to-night--and I swear it is my christened name. There is supper in the house--I give you an invitation.” The priest seemed impatient to be gone and annoyed at this conversation, but Luc, despite his distaste of the whole thing, was interested in the stranger, in his very shamelessness, in his peculiar, gentle address, in his mention of M. de Voltaire. He felt curious to see this man’s person, for they stood now in the shadow of the barn, and the priest kept his lantern turned carefully away. “Monsieur,” answered Luc, “at present I should not know you again; if we go into the house I shall see your face.” “I trust you,” answered M. Armand. He beckoned to the priest, and the three entered the farm and the room next to that where the Marquis had slept, and where his horse still stood. Luc found that it was in good repair and rudely furnished, as if frequently used. A deal table occupied the middle, and when the lantern was set on this it showed several chairs, a cupboard, a plain couch with a coverlet, and a stout box or chest with brass locks. M. Armand ordered the priest to light candles; they were taken from the cupboard and placed on the table in iron holders. The room was now in bright light, and Luc and the stranger instantly looked at each other with calm curiosity. The Marquis beheld a man still young, but not so young as he had at first believed, dressed in a dark grey riding-suit without ornament or jewel, wearing high boots and a plain sword with a basket shell.