‘And the spotted ewe? You don’t think the wolves could have taken her away so early as this——’
‘Hush, hush!’ said the shepherd, with a warning gesture to the child, who seemed at once to see that the lunatic’s vision was on him; for he drew his little blouse close around his throat, and muttered a ‘Bonjour, Lazare,’ and departed.
‘Couldn’t that boy guide me down to Spa, or some village near it?’ said I, anxious to seize an opportunity of escape.
He looked at me without seeming to understand my question. I repeated it more slowly, when, as if suddenly aware of my meaning, he replied quickly—
‘No, no; little Pierre has a long road to go home; he lives far away in the mountains. I ‘ll show you the way myself.
With that, he opened the sack, and took forth a loaf of coarse wheaten bread, such as the poorest cottagers make, and a tin flask of milk. Tearing the loaf asunder, he handed me one-half, which more from policy than hunger, though I had endured a long fast, I accepted. Then passing the milk towards me he made a sign for me to drink, and when I had done, seized the flask himself, and nodding gaily with his head, cried, ‘A vous, camarade.’ Simple as the gesture and few the words, they both convinced me that he had been a soldier once; and each moment only strengthened me in the impression that I had before me in the shepherd Lazare an officer of the Grande Armée—one of those heroes of a hundred fights, whose glory was the tributary stream in the great ocean of the Empire’s grandeur.
Our meal was soon concluded, and in silence; and Lazare, having replenished his fire, went to the door and looked out.
‘It will be wilder ere night,’ said he, as he peered into the dense mist, which, pressed down by rain, lay like a pall upon the earth; ‘if you are a good walker, I ‘ll take you by a short way to Spa.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said I, ‘to follow you.’
‘The mountain is easy enough; but there may be a stream or two swollen by the rains. They are sometimes dangerous.’