Then he took out of a drawer a packet of letters and bade Gerzson put them in the pocket of his cassock as the coat he was wearing had no pockets.
"Why do you take these with you?"
"Because I fear to leave them here, and also because I believe I shall never return to this house any more. I have one request to make of you and that is that you will read these letters and keep the contents to yourself." Gerzson promised to do so.
It was just as the descending moon seemed to be resting on the summits of the mountains that the priest and his guest quitted the quiet little house by way of the garden. The night which covered the retreat of the fugitives was pitch dark. Nobody but one who had been accustomed to that district for years and knew all its ins and outs could have found a path through those wooded gorges.
By the morning light the fugitives perceived the little posting station on the high road. There the priest exchanged clothes with Gerzson and resumed his clerical attire.
"Nothing can detain us now," said the priest, "you can procure post horses here and return home, but I go in an opposite direction."
"Whither?"
"The world is wide. Do not trouble yourself about me. In a month's time we shall meet again."
"Where?"
"At this very place."