I Learned Next Day That The
Chestnut Gardens Are Infested By Rats; Rustling, Chirping, And Scraping
Were Probably All Due To These; But The Puzzle, For The Moment, Was
Insoluble, And I Had To Compose Myself For Sleep, As Best I Could, In
Wondering Uncertainty About My Neighbours.
I was wakened in the grey of the morning (Monday, 30th September) by the
sound of foot-steps not far off upon the stones, and opening my eyes, I
beheld a peasant going by among the chestnuts by a footpath that I had
not hitherto observed.
He turned his head neither to the right nor to
the left, and disappeared in a few strides among the foliage. Here was
an escape! But it was plainly more than time to be moving. The
peasantry were abroad; scarce less terrible to me in my nondescript
position than the soldiers of Captain Poul to an undaunted Camisard. I
fed Modestine with what haste I could; but as I was returning to my sack,
I saw a man and a boy come down the hillside in a direction crossing
mine. They unintelligibly hailed me, and I replied with inarticulate but
cheerful sounds, and hurried forward to get into my gaiters.
The pair, who seemed to be father and son, came slowly up to the plateau,
and stood close beside me for some time in silence. The bed was open,
and I saw with regret my revolver lying patently disclosed on the blue
wool. At last, after they had looked me all over, and the silence had
grown laughably embarrassing, the man demanded in what seemed unfriendly
tones:
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