“What do you want?” he asked the stranger; “and why are you continually behind this gate, with your eyes fixed upon the garden?”
“I want nothing,” the stranger replied, in a loud voice and with an abrupt manner. “I am looking at this garden because I choose to, and I look at it through this gate, because they would not permit me to walk about inside.”
“If that is what you wish, you may gratify yourself now. Come in, monsieur; there is nothing now to prevent you.”
As he spoke, Edouard, who was curious to see the whole of the stranger’s face, opened the gate leading into the fields.
The stranger seemed surprised at Edouard’s invitation; however, as soon as the gate was opened, he did not wait to be asked a second time, but entered the garden. Murville was then able to contemplate him at his ease. He saw a man of tall stature, dressed in an old blue frock-coat, buttoned to the chin, who wore black gaiters and a dilapidated three-cornered hat, which he carried in his hand.
As he examined this singular individual, whose pale face, long beard and neglected dress seemed to indicate misfortune and want, Edouard remembered his mother-in-law’s suspicions, and a feeling of distrust entered his mind.
The stranger walked about the garden, pausing from time to time in front of a clump of shrubs or an old tree, and apparently forgetting that there was some one with him.
“Parbleu!” said Edouard to himself, “I propose to have something to show for my good-nature; I must find out who this man is, and why he planted himself behind the little gate. I must take the first step, and as he says nothing, I must begin the conversation; he will have to answer me.”
The stranger had seated himself upon a mound of turf, from which the front of the house could be seen. Edouard approached and sat down beside him.
“Oh! I beg your pardon, monsieur,” said the stranger, as if suddenly arousing himself from his abstraction, “I have not thought yet to thank you for your kindness. But I was in such a hurry to see this place again!”