Alfred, losing his patience, dealt the old door a violent kick; it gave way and flew open, to the great surprise of the concierge. While the latter made his reflections thereupon, Alfred ascended the winding staircase; and when Cunette saw that the young man had gone up without him, he, instead of following him, went back to his comrades.
Alfred entered the old apartments on the first floor; he found no one there, and everything was in the same order as when he had visited the tower with Robineau. On leaving the first floor, he found that the concierge had left him; he pursued his investigations none the less, and went up to the floor above; finding no one there either, he went still higher up, and was about to enter the room called the arsenal, when he distinctly heard someone therein. He stopped, cocked his pistol, and listened; the noise had ceased. He abruptly opened the door of that room, which was as dark as night; but he fancied that he could see some one, absolutely still, in one corner. He walked toward that object, holding his light before him, and soon recognized the vagabond, seated tranquilly in an old armchair.
Alfred started back in surprise, and the stranger smiled, saying:
"You hardly expected to find me here, did you?"
"That is true," said Alfred, setting his candle down near him. "But what are you doing in this tower? How did you get into this château at night? Why have you come here? Answer me, and do not try to deceive me."
"What am I doing in this tower? Why, you see: I am resting. How did I get in? Oh! quite simply, through the door; for I have not the faculty of passing through keyholes, as the imbeciles in this château think. What I have come here for to-day is to see you, to whom I wished to speak secretly; and as I never meet you now in the mountains, because you never leave the château, I had no choice but to come here to see you; and it was my intention to tap lightly at the door of your room to-night."
The placidity, the perfect coolness with which the stranger answered Alfred, added to the latter’s surprise; he could not imagine that a malefactor, a man who had come there with the purpose of committing theft, would speak to him so calmly; moreover, there was nothing in the tower to tempt the cupidity of a thief; and he remembered that the man before him had not long before refused a purse which he had offered him.
The stranger, apparently divining the young man’s thoughts, said:
"You cannot imagine that I have come into this château for the purpose of committing theft. Since you have been living here with the new owner there have been very few nights that I have not come into this tower to rest; but I have never wished or attempted to go into any other part of the château, which, however, it would have been very easy for me to do. No, this place alone attracts me; it recalls memories of my childhood. I used to live in this château, in the time of the old dowager of whom you have heard. I noticed that no one lived in this tower, that it was altogether deserted, and I saw no great harm in coming sometimes at night to seek shelter within these walls, where I used to sleep so soundly long ago."
The stranger’s speech had become slow and melancholy as he said these last words; and, apparently engrossed by the memories which that old room in which he sat aroused in his mind, he glanced about at the walls, blackened by time, at the armor eaten by rust, which could still be seen in some of the corners. A sigh escaped from his breast, his eyes were moist; all his features expressed misery in the present and regret for the past.