I was descending the last declivity of the Canigou, and, although the sun was already set, I could distinguish in the plain the houses of the little town of Ille, towards which I was making.
“Of course,” I said to the Catalan who had served me as guide since the previous evening, “of course you know where M. de Peyrehorade stays?”
“Know where he stays!” he exclaimed; “I know his house as well as my own; and, if it were not so dark, I would show it you. It is the finest in Ille. He has money, he has, M. de Peyrehorade, and he’s marrying his son to richer than himself even.”
“And is this marriage to be soon?” I asked him.
“Soon! perhaps the fiddles are ordered for the wedding already. To-night, perhaps, to-morrow, the day after to-morrow, for all that I know! It’s to be at Puygarrig; for it’s Mademoiselle de Puygarrig whom the young gentleman is marrying. It will be grand, that it will!”
I had an introduction from my friend, M. de P., to M. de Peyrehorade. He, I had been informed, was a very learned antiquary, and most exceedingly obliging. He would consider it a pleasure to show me all the ruins for ten leagues around. Now, I was counting on his aid to visit the environs of Ille, which I knew to be rich in monuments of antiquity and of the Middle Ages. This marriage, of which I now heard for the first time, upset all my plans.
“I am going to be a spoil-sport,” I said to myself. But I was expected; seeing that M. de P. had said I was coming, I was bound to present myself.
“I’ll bet you, sir,” my guide said to me, when we were now in the plain, “I’ll bet you a cigar that I guess what you are going to do at M. de Peyrehorade’s.”
“O!” I said to him, as I handed him a cigar, “that’s not very difficult to guess! At this hour of night, after doing six leagues on the Canigou, the great thing is supper.”
“Yes, but to-morrow?... Listen, I’ll wager you’ve come to Ille to see the idol. I guessed as much from seeing you take the portraits of the saints at Serrabona.”