Wilherm knew it for a hearse. It was drawn by six black horses, and driven by Ankou[3] himself, with an iron whip in his hand, and ever crying as he went,
“Turn aside, or I turn thee back!”
Wilherm gave him way without being disconcerted.
“What are you doing here, Squire White?”[4] he questioned boldly.
“I make prize, and by surprise,” replied Ankou.
“That is to say, you’re thievish and treacherous,” continued Wilherm.
“I am he that strikes without distinction and without regret.”
“That is to say, a fool and a brute. Then I wonder no more, my fine fellow, that you’re a regular inhabitant of the four bishoprics, for to you the whole proverb belongs.[5] But what are you in such haste about to-day?”
“I am going to fetch Wilherm Postik,” replied the phantom as he passed on.
The profligate laughed aloud, and went on his way. As he came up to the little sloe-hedge leading to the washing-ground, he saw two white females hanging linen on the bushes.