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."

[pg 389]

"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?"

"they belong to the republic, which amounts to the same thing."

"then the republic does not cultivate the land which it confiscates?"

"as if it had the time! it has plenty of other things to do, has this republic."

[pg 390]

"what has it to do?"

"it has to make a new skin."

"true—it is putting on its third. do you bother your head with such things?"

"oh! a little in my spare time. our neighbors of the jura have sent the republic general pichegru, just the same."

"yes."

"they can't have liked that very well over yonder. but here i am chattering and wasting your time. after all, though, if you are going to seillon, you need not hurry."

"why not?"

"why, because there is no one there."

"no one?"

"the deuce, not unless it be the ghosts of the old monks, and they don't appear until midnight, so you will have to wait."

"are you sure, my friend," persisted the traveller, "that there is no one at the abbey of seillon?" and he emphasized the words.

"i passed there yesterday, when i was carrying some fish to madame de montrevel at the chateau des noires-fontaines; there was not even a cat there." then he added emphatically: "they were all priests of baal, so there is not much harm done."

the traveller started, more visibly than at first.

"priests of baal?" he asked, looking fixedly at the fisherman.

"yes, and unless you come from a certain king of israel whose name i have forgotten—"

"from king jehu, you mean, do you not?"

"i am not sure; it was a king who was consecrated by a prophet—named—named—what was the name of the prophet who consecrated king jehu?"

"elisha," responded the traveller, without hesitation.

"that is it. but he consecrated him on one condition. what was that condition? help me to remember."

[pg 391]

"that he punish the crimes of the house of ahab and jezebel."

"the deuce! tell me about it at once;" and he held out his hand to the traveller.

the traveller and the fisherman gave each other a final sign of recognition, which left neither of them in doubt that they both belonged to the same association. however, they did not question each other as to their personal affairs, nor as to the work which they both had in hand, the one in going to the abbey of seillon, the other in setting his lines and tents. but the young fisherman said:

"i am sorry that i am kept here by superior orders; if it were not for that i would gladly serve as your guide; but i cannot return to the chartreuse until they have given me the signal. but there is no longer any need to deceive you. you see those two black masses of which one is higher than the other? the higher one is the town of bourg; the lower the village of saint-denis. pass between the two at an equal distance, and continue on your way until you are stopped by the bed of the reissouse. you can cross it, for the water will scarcely reach to your horse's knees; then you will see a great black curtain before you. that is the forest."

"thanks," said the traveller; "once in the forest, i know what to do."

"even if they do not reply to your signal from the forest?"

"yes."

"well, go then, and good luck to you."

the two young men shook hands once again, and the young fisherman descended the bank with the same rapidity with which he had ascended it.

the traveller mechanically stretched out his neck to see what had become of him. he was invisible. then the traveller gathered up his reins, and as the moon had come out and he had an open field to cross, he put his horse to a gallop, and was soon between bourg and saint-denis.

[pg 392]

the clock struck in both places at the same time. the traveller counted eleven strokes.

after crossing the road from lyons to bourg, the traveller found himself, as the fisherman had said, on the banks of a little river. his horse reached the other side with two strides, and when there he saw before him a plain about two hundred yards wide, bounded by a dark line, which he had been told was the forest. he spurred his horse straight for it.

ten minutes later he was riding along a country road which skirted the forest in its whole length. there he stopped a moment and looked around him. he did not hesitate to give the signal agreed upon, but he wished to make sure that he was alone. the silence of the night is at times so intense that the most daring men respect it, unless they are forced to break it. for a moment then, as we have said, our traveller looked and listened, but he neither saw nor heard anything. he put his hand to his mouth and whistled thrice with the handle of his whip, the first and last being strong and resonant, the second tremulous, like a boatswain's whistle. the sound was lost in the depths of the forest, but no sound, either similar or dissimilar, replied to it. while he listened, midnight struck at bourg, and was repeated by all the clocks of the neighborhood. the traveller repeated the signal a second time, and again silence was his only answer.

then he seemed to make up his mind, and following the country road until he came to one at right angle with it, he resolutely plunged into the latter; ten minutes later he came to another, which crossed it again, and following this crossroad, he bore to the left, and five minutes later was out of the forest.

a dark mass rose before him some two hundred yards away, which was doubtless the goal of his journey. as he approached it he studied certain details to make sure that this was really the old chartreuse before him.

at last he stopped before a great portal surmounted by[pg 393] three statues, those of the virgin, of our lord, and of saint john the baptist. the statue of the virgin, placed directly over the door, formed the apex of the triangle. the two others came down to the cross-piece, forming the branch of the stone cross, in which a double door of massive oak was set, which, more fortunate than certain other portions of the frontal, and more particularly the windows on the first floor, seemed to have survived the ravages of time.

"here it is," said the traveller; "and now to see which of the three statues is that of saint john."