“If you do not go, sir,” said De Guiche, “remember that we have two steeds able to catch your mule and the power of having you seized wherever you may be; and then I swear your trial will be summary; one can always find a tree and a cord.” The monk’s eye again flashed, but that was all; he merely repeated his phrase, “I will go,”—and he went. “Let us follow him,” said De Guiche; “it will be the surest plan.” “I was about to propose so doing,” answered De Bragelonne. In the space of five minutes the monk turned around to ascertain whether he was followed or not. “You see,” said Raoul, “we have done wisely.” “What a horrible face that monk has,” said De Guiche. “Horrible!” replied Raoul, “especially in expression.” “Yes, yes,” said De Guiche, “a strange face; but these monks are subject to such degrading practices; their fasts make them pale, the blows of the discipline make them hypocrites, and their eyes become inflamed through weeping for the good things of this life we common folk enjoy, but they have lost.” “Well,” said Raoul, “the poor man will get his priest, but, by Heaven, the penitent appears to me to have a better conscience than the confessor. I confess I am accustomed to priests of a very different appearance.” “Ah!” exclaimed De Guiche, “you must understand that this is one of those wandering brothers, who go begging on the high road until some day a benefice falls down from Heaven on them; they are mostly foreigners—Scotch, Irish or Danish. I have seen them before.” “As ugly?” “No, but reasonably hideous.” “What a misfortune for the wounded man to die under the hands of such a friar!” “Pshaw!” said De Guiche. “Absolution comes not from him who administers it, but from God. However, for my part, I would rather die unshriven than have anything to say to such a confessor. You are of my opinion, are you not, viscount? and I see you playing with the pommel of your sword, as if you had a great inclination to break the holy father’s head.” “Yes, count, it is a strange thing and one which might astonish you, but I feel an indescribable horror at the sight of yonder man. Have you ever seen a snake rise up on your path?” “Never,” answered De Guiche. “Well, it has happened to me to do so in our Blaisois forests, and I remember that the first time I encountered one with its eyes fixed upon me, curled up, swinging its head and pointing its tongue, I remained fixed, pale and as though fascinated, until the moment when the Comte de la Fère——” “Your father?” asked De Guiche. “No, my guardian,” replied Raoul, blushing. “Very well——” “Until the moment when the Comte de la Fère,” resumed Raoul, “said, ‘Come, Bragelonne, draw your sword;’ then only I rushed upon the reptile and cut it in two, just at the moment when it was rising on its tail and hissing, ere it sprang upon me. Well, I vow I felt exactly the same sensation at sight of that man when he said, ‘Why do you ask me that?’ and looked so strangely at me.”