"Are you suspicious of me?" said the young man, whose curiosity was aroused by his companion's proud and fearless character. "To prove that distrust is an unworthy feeling, I will pay you in advance. How much do you want?" "I beg your pardon, excuse me, monsieur, I want nothing; I have neither wife nor children, I need nothing for the moment; besides I have a friend, a good fellow, whose house is not far away, and I shall take advantage of the first flash to go there and have supper and sleep on a good bed. Why should I deprive myself of that for you? Let us see! is it because you have a good horse and new clothes?" "I like your pride, so far as that goes! But it seems to me not well done of you to refuse an exchange of favors." "I have done you all the service in my power by telling you not to take any risks at night in such vile weather, on roads that will be impassable in half an hour. What more do you want?" "Nothing. When I asked for your assistance I wanted to ascertain the character of the people of this neighborhood, that's all. I see now that their good will toward strangers is limited to words." "Toward strangers!" cried the native, in a melancholy and reproachful tone which impressed the traveller. "In Heaven's name isn't that too much for those who have never done us aught but harm? I tell you, monsieur, men are unjust; but God's sight is clear, and he knows well that the poor peasant allows himself to be shorn, without revenging himself, by the shrewd people who come from the great cities." "Have the people from the cities done so much harm in your country districts, pray? That is a fact that I know nothing of and am not responsible for, as this is my first visit." "You are going to Gargilesse. I suppose of course you are going to see Monsieur Cardonnet? You are either a relation or friend of his, I am sure?" "Who is this Monsieur Cardonnet, whom you seem to hold in ill-will?" asked the young man, after a moment's hesitation. "Enough, monsieur," the peasant replied; "if you don't know him anything that I could say would hardly interest you, and if you are rich you have nothing to fear from him. The poor people are the only ones he has a grudge against." "But after all," rejoined the traveller, with a sort of restrained emotion, "it may be that I have reasons for wanting to know what people in this country think of this Monsieur Cardonnet. If you refuse to give any reason for your bad opinion of him, it must be because you have some personal spite against him, not at all creditable to yourself."