"You are mistaken, monsieur; and although your exterior may have led me to think that you are not wealthy, that thought has made me desirous to do something for you, to be useful to you, and that is what led me to ask you these questions."

The stranger looked at Edouard for some seconds, then shook his head, saying:

"You must be very different from other men then!"

"I came here with the person who has bought this chateau, and whom you may have seen with us."

The stranger indulged in a mocking smile, as he muttered:

"Yes, yes, I have seen him! and it seems that he has already begun to upset everything in the chateau."

"This property needs repairs; he proposes to make more modern the part of the building that he occupies. He also proposes to set up a household; he has not enough servants, and there are various positions to be filled. As you seem to look at the house with interest, I thought that perhaps it would be agreeable to you----"

"And you have come to offer me a chance to be the new owner's footman!"

exclaimed the stranger, with a frown.

Amazed at the expression which the other's face a.s.sumed, Edouard replied hesitatingly:

"Footman--or something else; I know of no occupation that is degrading to him who fills it uprightly."

The stranger seemed to reflect for some moments, then exclaimed sarcastically:

"Upon my word, that would be very amusing! It would, indeed! I know that Jacob was a servant to Laban, that Apollo was a farmhand, that David kept flocks, that Cincinnatus drove the plough, and that the Prodigal Son was reduced to herding swine! After all, what does one's employment matter, provided that one is happy? Is a man in an embroidered coat more worthy of esteem than one in a jacket and clogs? No. But he who is richly clad is able to procure all the pleasures of life, to satisfy his desires and his pa.s.sions--that is the advantage that he has over the other. The form changes, but the substance is always the same. To prove it, just give money, wealth, to some poor wretch whose simple life and pure morals have been extolled to you, and he will very soon plunge into folly like the others. I know but one cla.s.s of really wise people, and they are those who do not allow themselves to be tricked!"

Edouard listened to the stranger with no less surprise than interest.

His speech proved that he, Edouard, was not in error in thinking that that man had not always been in such wretched plight. Apparently regardless of the person who stood beside him, the stranger took from his pocket a pipe and a flint, and as he struck the flint to obtain a light, continued his reflections:

"What a curious thing life is! When one is rich, happy, highly esteemed, one exposes it recklessly and plays with danger; one makes it a point of honor to defy perils. To be sure, we generally do it solely from self-esteem; then comes adversity, poverty, old age, and then we generally begin to tremble for our lives. We act like fools! For my own part, I have taken the wise course: I worry about nothing; I hold myself superior to everything. I still have a few coins in my pocket, and when they are gone, we will see. It won't be the first time that I have found myself in an embarra.s.sing position, and there is something piquant in the reflections to which such a condition gives rise. Moreover, the Auvergnats are good fellows; they will always give me a crust of bread, and with that I can walk where I please from morning till night. That is something. Ah! If we were at Athens or Sparta, people might find something to criticise in my mode of life, I know. By Solon's law it was justifiable to denounce every citizen who had no occupation. But other times, other manners!"

The stranger, having lighted his pipe, put it in his mouth, and turned toward Edouard with a mocking laugh; then blew a puff of smoke into his face.

"Monsieur," said Edouard, "it is easy to see from your speech that you have had an education, that you were not born in the lower ranks of society. Misfortunes, which I do not ask to know, must have brought adversity upon you. You seem to hold a low opinion of your fellowmen, undoubtedly because you have reasons to complain of them; but misfortune embitters us and sometimes makes us unjust; so far as I am concerned, I sincerely desire to be of use to you, and to extricate you from a situation which I see you ought not to occupy."

"Which I ought not to occupy! Why, you see that I ought, since I am in it! But have I asked you for anything? Who told you that I am not contented as I am?"

"A man may become hardened to misfortune, to poverty; but whatever strength of mind he may have, it is impossible to banish entirely from his thoughts the memory of a happier time."

The stranger stretched himself out carelessly on the turf and looked at Edouard.

"Ah! you believe that, do you? How do you know that I do not deserve the misfortune of which you suppose me to be the victim; that it is not my misbehavior, my pa.s.sions, which have put me where I am?"

"If that were so, I should see in it simply an additional motive for trying to oblige you. A man must be much more unhappy when his unhappiness is due to his own fault."

"Do you think that I follow the creed of Zoroaster, that I regale myself by reading the _Sadder_, which demands that a man should make a rigid examination of his conscience at the end of every day? No, indeed; for a long time my conscience and myself have been the best friends in the world, and for a very good reason, namely, that we never speak to each other.--Have you any snuff about you?"

"No, I never use it."

"That is a pity; it is deuced hard to find any about here! Never mind,--I will do without it; a man becomes accustomed to everything!

Formerly I would never believe that one could sleep as well in the open air as in a bed; now I enjoy it immensely. I confess, however, that the bread of these mountaineers is a little heavy; it cannot come up to a truffled turkey or a roasted pheasant; but one must needs be sober when one cannot be otherwise."

"Why do you refuse me then when I offer you the means to be more comfortable? A servant's place would humiliate you; but we might be able to find some place for you which would not be exactly that, some occupation in which there would be nothing distressing to you."

"No, no, it isn't the name of servant that offends me; I tell you again, I look upon all men with the same eye! But to be a servant in this chateau--that is impossible!"

"Why so?"

"It is impossible, I tell you!" As he said this the stranger sprang to his feet; then he continued with a smile: "You must agree that the new owner has every appearance of an egregious idiot!"

Edouard smiled too, as he replied:

"He is a very good fellow at bottom."

"Oh, yes! A good fellow! I have known a deuced lot of men who seem to be that! They borrowed my money and never returned it. However, I did the same myself, later; it is natural; but it is much more difficult to live with fools than with intelligent people. Wealth makes the former even more absurd than ever, because it gives them a.s.surance, self-sufficiency, which they parade on all occasions, and with which they drive one mad!--Ah! I feel by my stomach that dinner time has come; the stomach acts as a watch, you see; good-night, monsieur."

"May I not at least know your name? If any opportunity to oblige you should present itself, which were more agreeable to you than the idea of taking service at the chateau, I should like to be able to find you."

"To find me! That is not a very easy matter. I am everywhere and nowhere, like the _free judges_ of old times. However, I think that I have chosen my place of abode in these mountains for some time. As for my name, I have no desire to tell you the name which really belongs to me; but I will tell you what the Auvergnats call me, who meet me on the roads and who are beginning to know me; they call me the tall vagabond.

That is not such a sonorous name as Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, but after all it is as good a name as another. Good-night."

With that, the stranger walked away whistling, and Edouard returned to the chateau, thinking of the strange individual with whom he had been talking. They were awaiting Edouard to adjourn to the table. Monsieur Ferulus was in despair, for fear that the soup would be cold; but Robineau was very curious to know who the man was with the knotted stick, and as soon as he espied Edouard, he cried: "Well! did you talk with him?"

"Yes, we had quite a long conversation."

"You must tell us about it."

"Cannot monsieur tell us about it at the table?" said Monsieur Ferulus.

They took their seats at the table, and Edouard told the result of his conversation with the stranger.

"So he won't enter my service?" said Robineau.

"No, he refuses."

"I am not at all sorry."

"It must be that that fellow is a little cracked," said Monsieur Ferulus, "to prefer the bread of the mountaineers to Monsieur de la Roche-Noire's _cuisine_."

"I don't agree with you," said Edouard. "That man has had a good education, and has held high rank in society; he can't make up his mind to wait upon other men, and that seems to me natural enough."

"What makes you think that that vagabond has been received in good society?" said Robineau. "I have discovered nothing distinguished in his appearance."

"If you had heard him talk, you would be certain that he has not always worn such shabby clothes."

"My dear friend," said Alfred, "you are a little inclined to be romantic. Everything that seems in the least degree strange or extraordinary, attracts you, and you are very glad to transform this vagabond into one of those mysterious characters whom we find only in novels."

"Messieurs," said Monsieur Ferulus, filling everybody's gla.s.s, "Monsieur Edouard is a man of letters; he may have been--I will say more, he must have been flattered to hear a few scholastic words come from the mouth of so vulgar a person. But what does that prove? That he has received an education? I am not of that opinion. Are we not told that in ancient times animals spoke?"

"Such things are seen in our day, too," said Alfred.