Well—what has the pipe to do with the story?
Nay, Sir, you put me out; I can't go on, unless you let me tell it my own way. As I was saying—with a pipe in his mouth—I think I was there your honour!
Yes, yes.
He sets himself down on the bench, and, taking the pipe from his mouth, says to the blacksmith—Neighbour, do you know any body of the Name of La Motte hereabouts!—Bless your honour, I turned all of a cold sweat in a minute!—Is not your honour well! shall I fetch you any thing?
No—but be short in your narrative.
La Motte! La Motte! said the blacksmith, I think I've heard the name.—Have you? said I, you're cunning then, for there's no such person hereabouts, to my knowledge.
Fool!—why did you say that?
Because I did not want them to know your honour was here; and if I had not managed very cleverly, they would have found me out. There is no such person hereabouts, to my knowledge, says I.—Indeed! says the blacksmith, you know more of the neighbourhood than I do then.—Aye, says the man with the pipe, that's very true. How came you to know so much of the neighbourhood? I came here twenty-six years ago, come next St. Michael, and you know more than I do. How came you to know so much?
With that he put his pipe in his mouth, and gave a whiff full in my face. Lord! your honour, I trembled from head to foot. Nay, as for that matter says I, I don't know more than other people, but I'm sure I never heard of such a man as that.—Pray, says the blacksmith, staring me full in the face, an't you the man that was inquiring some time since about St. Clair's abbey?—Well, what of that? says I, what does that prove?—Why they say somebody lives in the abbey now, said the man, turning to the other; and, for aught I know, it may be this same La Motte.—Aye, or for aught I know either, says the man with the pipe, getting up from the bench, and you know more of this than you'll own. I'll lay my life on't, this Monsieur La Motte lives at the abbey.—Aye, says I, you are out there, for he does not live at the abbey now.
Confound your folly! cried La Motte; but be quick—how did the matter end?