"Come, come," said Roland, "don't bother about that; it's our boar."
"Well, Monsieur Louis, we will fetch your boar tomorrow."
"That's it," said the second peasant, "to-morrow morning, when it's light."
"But to go there at night--"
"Oh! to go there at night--"
The peasant looked at his comrade and both shook their heads.
"It can't be done at night."
"Cowards."
"Monsieur Louis, a man's not a coward because he's afraid."
"No, indeed; that's not being a coward," replied the other.
"Ah!" said Roland, "I wish some stronger minded men than you would face me with that argument; that a man is not a coward because he's afraid!"
"Well, it's according to what he's afraid of, Monsieur Louis. Give me a good sickle and a good cudgel, and I'm not afraid of a wolf; give me a good gun and I'm not afraid of any man, even if I knew he's waiting to murder me."
"Yes," said Edouard, "but you're afraid of a ghost, even when it's only the ghost of a monk."
"Little Master Edouard," said the peasant, "leave your brother to do the talking; you're not old enough to jest about such things--"
"No," added the other peasant, "wait till your beard is grown, my little gentleman."
"I haven't any beard," retorted Edouard, starting up, "but just the same if I was strong enough to carry the boar, I'd go fetch it myself either by day or night."
"Much good may it do you, my young gentleman. But neither my comrade nor myself would go, even for a whole louis."
"Nor for two?" said Roland, wishing to corner them.
"Nor for two, nor four, nor ten, Monsieur de Montrevel. Ten louis are good, but what could I do with them if my neck was broken?"
"Yes, twisted like Pierre Marey's," said the other peasant.
"Ten louis wouldn't feed my wife and children for the rest of my life, would they?"
"And besides, when you say ten louis," interrupted the second peasant, "you mean really five, because I'd get five, too."
"So the pavilion is haunted by ghosts, is it?" asked Roland.
"I didn't say the pavilion--I'm not sure about the pavilion--but in the Chartreuse--"
"In the Chartreuse, are you sure?"
"Oh! there, certainly."
"Have you seen them?"
"I haven't; but some folks have."
"Has your comrade?" asked the young officer, turning to the second peasant.
"I haven't seen them; but I did see flames, and Claude Philippon heard chains."
"Ah! so they have flames and chains?" said Roland.
"Yes," replied the first peasant, "for I have seen the flames myself."
"And Claude Philippon on heard the chains," repeated the other.
"Very good, my friends, very good," replied Roland, sneering; "so you won't go there to-night at any price?"
"Not at any price."
"Not for all the gold in the world."
"And you'll go to-morrow when it's light?"
"Oh! Monsieur Louis, before you're up the boar will be here."
"Before you're up," said Echo.
"All right," said Roland. "Come back to me the day after tomorrow."
"Willingly, Monsieur Louis. What do you want us to do?"
"Never mind; just come."
"Oh! we'll come."
"That means that the moment you say, 'Come,' you can count upon us, Monsieur Louis."
"Well, then I'll have some information for you."
"What about?"
"The ghosts."
Amelie gave a stifled cry; Madame de Montrevel alone heard it. Louis dismissed the two peasants, and they jostled each other at the door in their efforts to go through together.
Nothing more was said that evening about the Chartreuse or the pavilion, nor of its supernatural tenants, spectres or phantoms who haunted them.