s, none escaped him. He sent Eugene, Berthier, Bourrienne, his
aides-de-camp and his suite by way of Gap and Draguignan, while he took
the road to Aix strictly incognito, accompanied only by Roland, to judge
for himself of the state of the Midi. Hoping that the joy of seeing his
family again would revive the love of life in his heart crushed by its
hidden sorrow, he informed Roland at Aix that they would part at Lyons,
and gave him three weeks' furlough to visit his mother and sister.

Roland replied: "Thank you, general. My sister and my mother will be
very happy to see me." Whereas formerly his words would have been:
"Thank you, general. I shall be very happy to see my mother and sister
again."

We know what occurred at Avignon; we have seen with what profound
contempt for danger, bitter disgust of life, Roland had provoked
that terrible duel. We heard the reason he gave Sir John for this
indifference to death. Was it true or false? Sir John at all events
was obliged to content himself with it, since Roland was evidently not
disposed to furnish any other.

And now, as we have said, they were sleeping or pretending to sleep as
they were drawn by two horses at full speed along the road of Avignon to
Orange.

CHAPTER VI. MORGAN

Our readers must permit us for an instant to abandon Roland and Sir
John, who, thanks to the physical and moral conditions in which we left
them, need inspire no anxiety, while we direct our attention seriously
to a personage who has so far made but a brief appearance in this
history, though he is destined to play an important part in it.

We are speaking of the man who, armed and masked, entered the room of
the table d'hote at Avignon to return Jean Picot the two hundred louis
which had been stolen from him by mistake, stored as it had been with
the government money.

We speak of the highwayman, who called himself Morgan. He had ridden
into Avignon, masked, in broad daylight, entered the hotel of the
Palais-Egalite leaving his horse at the door. This horse had enjoyed
the same immunity in the pontifical and royalist town as his master; he
found it again at the horse post, unfastened its bridle, sprang into
the saddle, rode through the Porte d'Oulle, skirting the walls,
and disappeared at a gallop along the road to Lyons. Only about
three-quarters of a mile from Avignon, he drew his mantle closer about
him, to conceal his weapons from the passers, and removing his mask he
slipped i