The evening closed, as I became aware of the presence of a fellow-traveller. He was, like myself, on horseback. He wore a short, dark gray cloak, a long wig of a raven hue, and a large hat, which, flapping over his face, conspired, with the increasing darkness, to allow me a very imperfect survey of his features. Twice or thrice he had passed me, and always with some salutation, indicative of a desire for further acquaintance; but my mood is not naturally too much inclined to miscellaneous society, and I was at that time peculiarly covetous of my own companionship. I had, therefore, given but a brief answer to the horseman’s courtesy, and had ridden away from him with a very unceremonious abruptness. At length, when he had come up to me for the fourth time, and for the fourth time had accosted me, my ear caught something in the tones of his voice which did not seem to me wholly unfamiliar. I regarded him with more attention than I had as yet done, and replied to him more civilly and at length. Apparently encouraged by this relaxation from my reserve, the man speedily resumed.
“Your horse, Sir,” said he, “is a fine animal, but he seems jaded: you have ridden far to-day, I’ll venture to guess.”
“I have, Sir; but the town where I shall pass the night is not above four miles distant, I believe.”
“Hum—ha!—you sleep at D——-, then?” said the horseman, inquisitively.
A suspicion came across me; we were then entering a very lonely road, and one notoriously infested with highwaymen. My fellow equestrian’s company might have some sinister meaning in it. I looked to my holsters, and leisurely taking out one of my pistols, saw to its priming, and returned it to its depository. The horseman noted the motion, and he moved his horse rather uneasily, and I thought timidly, to the other side of the road.
“You travel well armed, Sir,” said he, after a pause.
“It is a necessary precaution, Sir,” answered I, composedly, “in a road one is not familiar with, and with companions one has never had the happiness to meet before.”
“Ahem!—ahem!—Parbleu, Monsieur le Comte, you allude to me; but I warrant this is not the first time we have met.”
“Ha!” said I, riding closer to my fellow traveller, “you know me, then, and we have met before. I thought I recognized your voice, but I cannot remember when or where I last heard it.”
“Oh, Count, I believe it was only by accident that we commenced acquaintanceship, and only by accident, you see, do we now resume it. But I perceive that I intrude on your solitude. Farewell, Count, and a pleasant night at your inn.”