Michael held his peace as the wine was poured out, and I insisted on the
landlord drinking with us. We finished two bottles, and I sent for more.
I foresaw that sleep was out of the question, and so determined to make
a night of it.
"Touching upon this ghost," I began, when the other bade me in God's
name not to jest. There were some things, he said, not to be broached in
honest Christian company.
"A fig for your scruples!" I cried, emptying my glass; my head was hot
and I felt bold. "A fig, I say, for your bogie-man nonsense! Tell me at
what time doth this phantom choose to show itself." The landlord
shivered and drew his seat closer to the fire.
"Oh, sir, do not jest! What I tell you is no matter for rude laughter.
Begging your pardon for my offer, if you will be patient, I will relate
to you the story, and how my misfortune came from this awful visitant."
Even Michael seemed placated, and after I nodded my head in token of
assent the landlord related to us this story:--
* * * * *
Once upon a time, sirs, when the great and good Louis, sixteenth of his
name, was King of France, this domain was the property of the Duke of
Langlois.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241