"They will not find me," said he; "let them search."
"As you please; come, let us talk."
"Talk—be it so."
"Who are you?"
"You see—a proscrit."
"Just so; but there are various kinds of proscrits."
"I am of the worst kind," said the other, smiling.
"Hum!" cried the young man, "What do you mean?"
"What I say—nothing else. At the end of a desperate combat, fought by me against my enemies, as I had fallen into an ambuscade, I have been conquered just at the moment when I thought I had gained the victory. After seeing all my companions fall around me, I have been obliged to fly."
"That is the fortune of war," said the young man, philosophically; "you know this retreat, then?"