ought, and which belonged to him; and that even now, every May,
about the period of the death of Fabert, the people of the chateau saw
the black man about the house, bearing a small light. This story made
our dessert merry, and we drank a bottle of champagne to the demon of
Fabert, craving it to be good enough to take us also under its
protection, and enable us to win some battles like those of Collioure
and La Marfee.

I rose early the next morning, and went to the chateau of the Duke de
C----, an immense gothic manor-house, which perhaps at any other moment
I would not have noticed, but which I regarded, I acknowledge, with
curiosity mixed with emotion, as I recollected the story told us on the
preceding evening by the host of the 'France's Arms.' The servant to
whom I spoke, told me he did not know whether his master could receive
company, and whether he could receive me. I gave him my name, and he
went out, leaving me alone in a sort of armory, decorated with the
attributes of the chase and family portraits.

I waited some time, and no one came. 'The career of glory and of honor I
have dreamed commences by the antechamber,' said I to myself, and
impatience soon possessed the discontented solicitor. I had counted over
the family portraits and all the rafters of the ceiling some two or
three times, when I heard a slight noise in the wooden wainscoting. It
was caused by an ill-closed door the wind had forced open. I looked in,
and I perceived a very handsome boudoir, lighted by two large windows
and a glazed door opening on a magnificent park. I walked into this
room, and after I had gone a short distance, I was stopped by a scene
which I had not at first perceived. A man was lying on a sofa, with his
back turned to the door by which I came in. He got up, and without
perceiving me, ran abruptly to the window. Tears streamed down his
cheeks, and a profound despair was marked on his every feature. He
remained motionless for some time, keeping his face buried in his hands;
then he began striding rapidly about the room. I was then near him; he
perceived me, and trembled; I, too, was annoyed and confounded at my
indiscretion; I sought to retire, muttering some words of excuse.

'Who are you? What do you want?' he said to me in a loud voice, taking
hold of me by my arms.

'I am the Chevalier Bernard de la Roche Bernard, and I come from
Brittany.'...

'I know, I know,' said he; and he threw himself into my arms, made me