Please you, my young master, said Peter, who was waiting in the room, we were frightened enough the first night we came here, and I myself, God forgive me! thought the place was inhabited by devils, but they were only owls, and such like, after all.
Your opinion was not asked, said La Motte, learn to be silent.
Peter was abashed. When he had quitted the room, La Motte asked his son with seeming carelessness, what were the reports circulated by the country people? O! Sir, replies Louis, I cannot recollect half of them: I remember, however, they said that, many years ago, a person (but nobody had ever seen him, so we may judge how far the report ought to be credited)—a person was privately brought to this abbey, and confined in some part of it, and that there was strong reasons to believe he came unfairly to his end.
La Motte sighed. They further said, continued Louis, that the spectre of the deceased had ever since watched nightly among the ruins: and to make the story more wonderful, for the marvellous is the delight of the vulgar, they added, that there was a certain part of the ruin from whence no person that had dared to explore it, had ever returned. Thus people, who have few objects of real interest to engage their thoughts, conjure up for themselves imaginary ones.
La Motte sat musing. And what were the reasons, said he, at length awaking from his reverie, they pretended to assign for believing the person confined here was murdered?
They did not use a term so positive as that, replied Louis.
True, said La Motte, recollecting himself, they only said he came unfairly to his end.
That is a nice distinction, said Adeline.
Why I could not well comprehend what these reasons were, resumed Louis; the people indeed say, that the person who was brought here, was never known to depart; but I do not find it certain that he ever arrived: that there was strange privacy and mystery observed, while he was here, and that the abbey has never since been inhabited by its owner. There seems, however, to be nothing in all this that deserves to be remembered.—La Motte raised his head, as if to reply, when the entrance of Madame turned the discourse upon a new subject, and it was not resumed that day.
Peter was now dispatched for provisions, while La Motte and Louis retired to consider how far it was safe for them to continue at the abbey. La Motte, notwithstanding the assurances lately given him, could not but think that Peter's blunders and his son's inquiries might lead to a discovery of his residence. He revolved this in his mind for some time; but at length a thought struck him, that the latter of these circumstances might considerably contribute to his security. If you, said he to Louis, return to the inn at Auboine, from whence you were directed here, and without seeming to intend giving intelligence, do give the landlord an account of your having found the abbey uninhabited, and then add, that you had discovered the residence of the person you sought in some distant town, it would suppress any reports that may at present exist, and prevent the belief of any in future. And if, after all this, you can trust yourself for presence of mind and command of countenance, so far as to describe some dreadful apparition, I think these circumstances, together with the distance of the abbey and the intricacies of the forest, could entitle me to consider this place as my castle.