‘What distance are we then from Spa?’
‘Four leagues and a half by the nearest route—seven and a half by the road. Come, Tête-noir, bonne bête,’ said he, patting the savage beast, who with a rude gesture of his tail evinced his joy at the recognition. ‘Thou must be on guard to-day; take care of these for me—that thou wilt, old fellow; farewell, good beast, good-bye!’
The animal, as if he understood every word, stood with his red eyes fixed upon him till he had done, and then answered by a long low howl. Lazare smiled with pleasure, as he waved his hand towards him, and led the way from the tower.
I had but time to leave two louis-d’ors on the block of wood, when he called out to me to follow him. The pace he walked at, as well as the rugged course of the way he took, prevented my keeping at his side; and I could only track him as he moved along through the misty rain, like some genius of the storm, his long locks flowing wildly behind him, and his tattered garments fluttering in the wind.
It was a toilsome and dreary march, unrelieved by aught to lessen the fatigue. Lazare never spoke one word the entire time; occasionally he would point with his staff to the course we were to take, or mark the flight of some great bird of prey soaring along near the ground, as if fearless of man in regions so wild and desolate; save at these moments, he seemed buried in his own gloomy thoughts. Four hours of hard walking brought us at last to the summit of a great mountain, from which, as the mist was considerably cleared away, I could perceive a number of lesser mountains surrounding it, like the waves of the sea. My guide pointed to the ground, as if recommending a rest, and I willingly threw myself on the heath, damp and wet as it was.
The rest was a short one; he soon motioned me to resume the way, and we plodded onward for an hour longer, when we came to a great tableland of several miles in extent, but which still I could perceive was on a very high level. At last we reached a little grove of stunted pines, where a rude cross of stone stood—a mark to commemorate the spot where a murder had been committed, and to entreat prayers for the discovery of the murderers. Here Lazare stopped, and pointing to a little narrow path in the heather, he said—
‘Spa is scarce two leagues distant; it lies in the valley yonder; follow this path, and you ‘ll not fail to reach it.’
While I proffered my thanks to him for his guidance, I could not help expressing my wish to make some slight return for it. A dark, disdainful look soon stopped me in my speech, and I turned it off in a desire to leave some souvenir of my night’s lodging behind me in the old tower. But even this he would not hear of; and when I stretched out my hand to bid him good-bye, he took it with a cold and distant courtesy, as though he were condescending to a favour he had no fancy for.
‘Adieu, monsieur,’ said I, still tempted, by a last effort of allusion to his once condition, to draw something from him—‘adieu!’
He approached me nearer, and with a voice of tremulous eagerness, he muttered—