Before I had time to collect myself, I was hurried on by De Beauvais into a room, when the moment I had entered the door was closed and locked behind me. By the light of a coarse and rudely formed chandelier that occupied the middle of a table, I saw a party of near a dozen persons who sat around it,--the head of the board being filled by one whose singular appearance attracted all my attention. He was a man of enormous breadth of chest and shoulders, with a lofty massive head, on either side of which a quantity of red hair fell in profusion; a beard of the same color descended far on his bosom, which, with his overhanging eyebrows, imparted a most savage and ferocious expression to features which of themselves were harsh and repulsive. Though he wore a blouse in peasant fashion, it was easy to see that he was not of the lower walk of society. Across his brawny chest a broad belt of black leather passed, to support a strong straight sword, the heavy hilt of which peeped above the arm of his chair. A pair of handsomely-mounted pistols lay before him on the table; and the carved handle of a poniard could be seen projecting slightly from the breast-pocket of his vest. Of the rest who were about him I had but time to perceive that they were peasants; but all were armed, and most of them wearing a knot of white ribbon at the breast of their blouses. Every eye was turned towards me, as I stood at the foot of the table astonished and speechless--while De Beauvais, quitting my arm, hastened to the large man's side, and whispered some words in his ear. He rose slowly from his chair, and in a moment each face was turned to him. Speaking in a deep guttural tone, he addressed them for some minutes in a patois of which I was totally ignorant; every word he uttered seemed to stir their very hearts, if I were to judge from the short and heavy respiration, the deep-drawn breath, the flushed faces and staring eyes around me. More than once some allusion seemed made to me,--at least, they turned simultaneously to look at me; once, too, at something he said, each man carried his hand round to his sword-hilt, but dropped it again listlessly as he continued. The discourse over, the door was unlocked, and one by one they left the room, each man saluting the speaker with a reverence as he passed out. De Beauvais closed the door and barred it as the last man disappeared, and turning hastily round, called out,-- “What now?” The large man bent his head down between his hands, and spoke not in reply; then suddenly springing up, he said,-- “Take my horse--he is fresh and ready for the road--and make for Quilleboeuf; the ford at Montgorge will be swollen, but he 'll take the stream for you. At the farmer's house that looks over the river you can stop.” “I know it, I know it,” said De Beauvais. “But what of you, are you to remain behind?”