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 like himself, like him with white hair, and with garments more ragged. Almost his double. This man was leaning on a long stick.

The man said again,—

"I ask where you are going?"

"In the first place, where am I?" he said, with an almost haughty calnmess.

The man replied,—

"You are in the seigneurie of Tanis. I am its beggar, you are its seigneur."

"I?"

"Yes, you, sir, the Marquis de Lantenac."

Marquis de Lantenac,—henceforth we will call him by his name,—replied gravely,—

"You are right. Deliver me up."

The man continued,—

"We are both at home here: you in the castle, I in the thicket."

"Make an end of it. Do your work. Give me up," said the marquis.

The man continued,—

"You were going to the farm of Herbe-en-Pail, were you not? "

"Yes."

"Don't go there."

"Why?'"

"Because the Blues are there."

"How long since?"

"For three days."

"Did the inhabitants of the farm and the hamlet make any resistance?"

"No, they opened all the doors."

"Ah!" said the marquis.