It was probable that the men were watching the isolated house, upon the balcony of which a woman had shown herself for an instant; it was probable that the woman and the men were expecting the arrival of one and the same person, but with very different intentions; it was probable that this person was to come from the village, and consequently to pass the inn, which was about half-way between the village and the thicket, as the thicket was about half-way between the inn and the house; it was probable that the horseman with the white feather was the leader of the horsemen with gray helmets, and, from the eagerness with which he stood up in his stirrups, in order to see farther, it was probable that he was jealous, and was watching in his own interest. Just as the young man was concluding this chain of reasoning, the links of which fell naturally together in his mind, the door of his apartment opened and Master Biscarros appeared. "My dear host," said the young man, without giving him time to explain the purpose of his visit,--a purpose which he guessed, however, "come hither, and tell me, if my question is not impertinent, whose is the small house which I see yonder,--a white speck among the poplars and sycamores." The landlord followed with his eyes the direction in which the speaker's index finger pointed, and scratched his head. "'Faith!" he replied, with a smile which he tried to render cunning, "sometimes it belongs to one person, sometimes to another; it's yours, if you have any reason for seeking solitude, whether you wish to conceal yourself, or simply to conceal some one else." The young man blushed. "But who lives there to-day?" he asked. "A young lady who passes herself off for a widow, and whom the ghost of her first, and sometimes of her second husband, comes to visit from time to time. But there's one remarkable thing about it, and that is that the two ghosts seem to have an understanding with each other, and never return at the same time." "Since when," asked the young man, with a smile, "has the fair widow occupied this house, which is so convenient for ghosts?" "About two months. She keeps very much to herself, and no one, I think, can boast of having seen her during that time, for she goes out very rarely, and always heavily veiled. A little maid--a fascinating creature, on my word!--comes here every morning to order the meals for the day, and I send them to the house; she receives the dishes in the vestibule, pays handsomely for them, and shuts the door in the waiter's face. This evening, for example, there is a banquet on hand, and the partridge and quail you saw me plucking are for her." "Whom does she entertain to-night?" "One of the two ghosts I told you of, no doubt." "Have you ever seen these ghosts?" "Yes; but only passing along the road, after sunset, or before daylight."