The Major, in the meanwhile, continued to advance hurriedly in the direction of the ruins, whose imposing outline was already beginning to present itself to his eyes, borrowing from the surrounding gloom a still more imposing aspect.
The Major, convinced that his orders had been punctually carried out, for he had no motive to distrust Master Nicaud, whom he had ever and under all circumstances found willing and faithful, walked on without turning his head, or even taking precautions, which he considered unnecessary, as he was far from suspecting that several men were following his footsteps, and watching his movements.
It was easy to see from the deliberate manner in which he walked, and the facility with which he evaded obstacles and found his way in the darkness, that this was not the first time the Major had come to this spot, though it appeared so solitary and deserted.
After entering the ruins, M. de l'Oursière passed through a cloister, encumbered with shapeless fragments, and forcing his way between stones and brambles, he entered the chapel, a magnificent specimen of the purest Roman style, whose crumbling roof had fallen in under the incessant efforts of time, and only the choir and apse still remained intact amid broken columns and desecrated altars.
The Major passed through the choir, and reached the apse, where he halted.
After carefully examining for a moment the surrounding objects, as if he expected to find someone or something he did not perceive, he at length resolved to clap his hands thrice.
At the same moment a man rose scarce two paces from him.
This sudden apparition, though he fully expected it, made the Major start, and he fell back a step, laying his hand on his sword.
"Ah, ah, my master," the stranger said, in a mocking voice, "pray do you take me for a spectre, that I cause you such terror?"
The man was wrapped up in a thick cloak, whose folds concealed his shape, while a broad leafed plumed hat entirely covered his face and rendered him completely unrecognizable. Only the end of his cloak raised by the scabbard of a long rapier, proved that whoever the man might be, he had not come unarmed to this gloomy rendezvous.