"Dangerous!" said Corse de Leon; "oh, there is no danger in such things. I do believe these mountains that I love will crush me at last; for twice have I escaped almost by a miracle. But it is this injury, as you call it, that has determined me to go now. I can be of but little active use here till I can climb a rock again, and use this left arm as well as the right. No man has a title to remain an hour in idleness, whatever be his calling. Sleep itself I do not rightly understand: it is a lapse in the active exertion of our being which is very strange, a sort of calm pool in the midst of a torrent: I suppose it is solely for the body's sake. There could have been no sleep before death came into the world; for, not being subject to decay, the earthly frame could require no refreshment any more than the spirit. However, as I was saying, idle and inactive drones pretend that they must have rest and pause: if the head aches or the hand is hurt, they declare that they can neither think nor labour; but the wise man and the energetic man makes his spirit like that monstrous serpent which I have heard of, and which, when one head was smitten off, produced at once another. If a man cannot walk, he can ride; if a man's right arm be broken, let him use his left; if his eyes be put out, his ears will hear but the better—let him use them. Our manifold senses are but manifold capabilities; and if the mind is debarred from using one of its tools, it must use another. No man need want employment for the senses, the limbs, and the means that he has left, if he chooses to seek for it. For a while I shall be of no good upon the mountain, and therefore I am going to the city. Some time or another I must go, and therefore I may as well go now. But here comes the old woman with my mess of food. You must take some with me. No one knows better than she does how to cook the chamois, or the venison, or to roast the shining trout in the ashes, or the snow-fowl over the fire; and as for wine, the cellar of an archbishop or of a prior of a monastery could not give you better than this lonely house can produce. Nay, nay, shake not your head; you must eat and drink, let your impatience be what it may: every man needs strength; and that we should take food is a condition of our flesh and blood."
In conversation of this kind passed away the hours, Bernard de Rohan and his strange companion remaining almost altogether alone, though once two young men, dressed like herdsmen, came to the door of the room, and, leaning against the doorposts, addressed to Corse de Leon a few words, apparently of no great import, and upon ordinary subjects, but to which Bernard de Rohan imagined some occult meaning was attached.
At length, much to the satisfaction of the young cavalier, a perceptible shade of twilight came over the valley, along which the shadows of the hills had been creeping for some time. The twilight grew grayer and more gray, and Bernard de Rohan rose and walked to the window, with his impatience for the arrival of the horses increasing every moment. Corse de Leon was looking at him with a slight smile when he turned round; but, in a few minutes after, the brigand rose, left the room, and returned with the two young men whom Bernard de Rohan had seen before. They were now loaded, however, with various kinds of arms and habiliments of different sorts, which seemed to have been gathered from many a quarter of the earth. These were spread out, some upon the table and some on the floor; and this being performed without a word, those who bore them retired, only appearing again to furnish the chamber with a light.
Corse de Leon glanced his eye to the young cavalier, and then gazed upon the pile with a somewhat cynical smile.
"This seems to be an abundant harvest," said Bernard de Rohan, whose doubts as to the means employed to procure such rich habiliments were many.
"You say true," replied the brigand; "but you must remember, we are many reapers. This has been going on, too, for very many years, so that you will find here garments of various ages and of different nations. Look here," he continued, taking up a black velvet surtout richly embroidered with gold; "this is a coat cut in the fashion of forty or fifty years ago, and belonged to some fat Englishman, who doubtless came over to France with that arch heretic and blood monger Henry, who has not been many years dead. Then, depend upon it, he would see foreign countries, and go to Italy, and has left part of his fine wardrobe here behind him in the mountains."
"An unwilling legacy, I should think," replied Bernard de Rohan.
"Yes," answered the brigand; "but that is not a shot-hole you are looking at so curiously. Our traditions say, I believe—for we have our traditions—that the good gentleman got safe home, though somewhat thinner of purse and scantier in apparel than when he came away. However, choose yourself out some quiet suit that will not attract attention, for you must not go riding through France like a Savoyard peasant. There, that black hat and feather, which would become some sober student of Padua, making his first effort to look the cavalier. Then there is that stout buff coat I would recommend, with black loops and borders. Ay, it is somewhat heavy, but there is a secret in that: dagger or sword point will not well make its way through the jacked doublings of those hides, and a pistol-ball would strike but faintly, even if it did pass. Then there are those horseman's boots: they will be no bad addition to the rest. That long sharp sword, too, in the black sheath, will suit the hat, and none the less fit the hand. It is true Toledo. Now seek for two daggers somewhat like it, and a pair of pistols for the saddlebow. By the Lord that lives, if the horse they bring be but a gray Spanish charger, with a tail longer than ordinary, they will take you for some one who has been studying the black art at Salamanca, or perhaps for some lay officer of the Inquisition in disguise. Is the coat large enough? Oh, ay! it fits well. Now for a cloak to match."
With the assistance of his companion, Bernard de Rohan fitted himself with new garments, which somewhat disguised, but did not ill become his powerful form. After he had done, the brigand opened the mouth of a little sack which had been brought with the rest, saying, "Take what you will: you can repay me hereafter."
The young cavalier, however, took no more of the gold pieces which appeared shining within than was absolutely necessary, replying to the remonstrance of Corse de Leon that, as he approached nearer to Paris, there were many who would be willing to assist him.