"Ha! ha! Do you mean to say, good people, that you believe in witches?" exclaimed Alfred; while the peasants, amazed that anyone should dare to laugh while speaking of the White House, recoiled from the travellers and gazed at them with mingled surprise and terror.
Robineau, having discovered that the people of whom he had been afraid were themselves very timid, sprang suddenly to his feet, and exclaimed, pacing the floor with a firm tread:
"What! are you so stupid as all that, you unfortunate peasants? You believe in stories of magic and devils? such stout fellows as you, of five feet six! It makes me feel sorry for you; it—oh!"
In the heat of his harangue Robineau had barely escaped overturning the kettle, and he had just discovered that he was walking on burning brands.
"Messieurs," said Edouard, "it does not seem very surprising to me that the people of a small village among the mountains, far from frequented roads, who seem to retain the manners and customs of primitive times, should place faith in errors of which we ourselves have not been cured so very long—indeed, are we fully cured even now? In Paris, the centre of the enlightenment and civilization of our era, Mademoiselle Le Normand made a fortune, and fortune-tellers and necromancers are patronized by the very highest classes of society. Men have a decided penchant for error; the Romans had haruspices and sibyls; the Greeks, oracles and pythonesses; the Gauls, Druids; the Egyptians, their mysteries of Isis, Eleusis, Apis and Anubis; and the Jewish prophets were far superior to all the magicians of the Middle Ages!—And lastly, messieurs, I find that some great men, men of vast intellect, have been superstitious; and, without believing as Plato did in the existence of sorcerers, I see nothing extraordinary in the fact that the people of a poor hamlet have a weakness toward which men of culture show so much inclination."
"My dear Edouard, I don’t attribute their ignorance as a crime to these poor people; I shall not undertake to cure them of their superstition, because I think that that might be too long a task; but I will call your attention to the fact that we are not now interested in knowing whether all nations have entertained a belief in magic, but simply whether these young men, who seem to be from fourteen to sixteen years of age, will consent to act as our guides, so that we may reach the town nearby, to-night."
"Yes, that’s it," said Robineau; "it’s no time for exhibiting knowledge—we must come to the point.—Tell us, young Auvergnats, will you take us to Saint-Amand? I am the Seigneur de la Roche-Noire, and I will reward you handsomely."
But neither the entreaties nor the promises of Robineau availed to induce anyone of the inhabitants of the hovel to undertake the task of guiding the travellers; the dread aroused by the White House, which it was necessary to pass, was stronger than their desire to oblige.
"Faith, messieurs," said Alfred, "as these mountaineers have decided not to guide us before morning, we have but one course to pursue, and that is to pass the night here."
"Let us pass the night here," said Edouard.