pletely roused me, and made me, I may say, become all ear.
'Well, Claude (asked my host in a familiar voice), what journey have you been taking this time?'
'The old one (replied Claude); I have been to see my godfather who lives upon the Alps; he always makes me a handsome present when I visit him.'
'So he should, I am sure (said his companion); visiting him must be plaguey troublesome, considering the long and dangerous way you have to go.'
'Who do you think I met travelling that way this morning?' cried Claude.
'I am sure 'tis impossible for me to guess,' replied Josephe, the name of my host.
'No other than our young Lord the Marquis of Montmorenci's son,' said Claude, 'posting away as if the devil was at his heels.'
'Our young Lord! (repeated Josephe in a tone of astonishment), no, I'll be sworn you did not meet him; why, man, he is at this
