And now that we have tried to give some idea of the state of the country through which the traveller was passing, no wonder will be felt at the precautions which he had deemed advisable to take, nor at the attention he paid to every turn of the country, with which he seemed wholly unfamiliar. In fact, he had not followed the banks of the Veyle for more than a mile and a half before he reined in his horse, stood up in his stirrups, and, leaning over his saddle, tried to pierce the darkness, which had deepened since a cloud had passed over the face of the moon. He began to despair of finding his way without being forced to secure the services of a guide, either at Montech or at Saint-Denis, when a voice, coming apparently from the depths of the river, startled him, so unexpected was it. It said in the most cordial tone: "Can I assist you in any way, citizen?" "Faith, yes," replied the traveller; "and as I cannot come to you, not knowing where you are, perhaps you will be so good as to come to me, since you apparently do know where I am." And thus speaking he covered his pistols, and the hand which was playing with them, with his cloak. CHAPTER II THE TRAVELLER The traveller had not been mistaken; the voice did come from the river. A shadow slowly ascended the bank, and in a moment stood at the horse's head, with one hand resting on the bridle. The rider, apparently annoyed by this familiarity, pulled his horse back a step or two. "Oh! I beg your pardon, citizen," said the new-comer, "I did not know it was forbidden to touch your horse." "It is not forbidden," said the traveller; "but you know at night, and in these times, it is advisable to converse at a certain distance." "The deuce! I cannot distinguish what is advisable from what is not. You seemed unable to find your way; I saw it, and I said to myself, as I am a good fellow, 'Here is a Christian who does not seem to know his way about, so I will direct him.' You called to me to come to you, and here I am. You do not need me; good-by!" "Your pardon, friend," said the other, restraining him with a gesture, "the movement of my horse was an involuntary one. I do really need you, and you can do me a service." "What is it? Tell me. Oh! I bear no malice." "Do you belong to this region?" "I come from Saint-Rémy, near by. You can see the church from here." "Then you know the neighborhood?" "I should think so. I am a fisherman by trade. There is not a run of water for thirty miles around into which I have not cast my lines." "Then you must know the abbey of Seillon?" "Do I know the abbey of Seillon! I should think so. But I can't say as much for the monks." "And why can't you say as much for the monks?" "Why, because they have been driven out since 1797, of course." "Then to whom does the Chartreuse belong?" "To no one." "What? A farm, a convent, a forest of ten thousand acres, and three thousand acres of land besides, here in France, which belongs to no one?"