littering and intense, he would have shrunk as
from a burning-glass.

He folded up the wallet, however, and slipped it into his inside-pocket,
while the other pushed forward his hat, so that it concealed even the
eye, and sat rigid and still in his corner.

"You have not named the fare to Paris."

The tall man only breathed short and hard.

"Don't you recollect?"

"No!"

"I have a 'Galignani' here; perhaps it is advertised. But hallo, Andy!"

The exclamation was loud and abrupt, but the silent person did not move.

"_The Confederate Privateer Planter will sail from Dieppe on
Tuesday_--(that is, to-morrow evening)--_she will cruise in the Indian
Ocean, if report be true._"

The tall man started suddenly and uncovered his face with a quick
gesture. It was flushed and earnest now, and he clutched the journal
almost nervously, though his voice was yet calm and suppressed.

"To-morrow night, did you say? A cruise on the broad sea--glory without
peril, gold without work; I would to God that I were on the Planter's
deck, Hugenot!"

"Why not do something for ou-ah cause, Andy?"

"I am to return to Paris for what? To be dunned by creditors, to be
marked for a parasite at the hotels, to be despised by men whom I serve,
and pitied by men whom I hate. This pirate career suits me. What is
society to me, whom it has ostracised? I was a gentleman once--quick at
books, pleasing in company, shrewd in business. They say that I have
power still, but lack integrity. Be it so! Better a freebooter at sea
than upon the land. I have half made up my mind to evil. Hugenot, listen
to me! I believe that were I to do one bad, dark deed, it would restore
me courage, resolution, energy."

The little gentleman examined the other with some alarm; but just now
the teams commenced the ascent of a steep hill, and as he beheld the
guard a little way in advance, he forgot the other's earnestness, and
raised his lunette.

"Andy," he said, "by my great ancestry! I have seen that man before.
Look! the height, the style, the carriage, are familiar. Who is he?"

His co-voyageur was without curiosity; the former pallidness and
silentness resumed their dominion over him, and the lesser gentleman
settled moodily back to his newspaper.

No word was interchanged for several hours. They passed through shaggy
glens, under toppled towers and battlements, by squalid villages, and
within the sound of dashing streams. If they descended ever, it was to