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"There is nothing to see about; there is no one here now. It is

the height of rashness in you to venture here, with this little

difficulty impending. Listen to an old man who has more prudence

than yourself, and who speaks to you from the love he bears you.

Depart at once, before any one sees you, return whence you came.

Do you think the air of this place good for you? Know you not

that they have been here on the search for you?"

"I know it too well, the rascals."

"But then--"

"But, I tell you, they think no more about it. And he, does he

yet live? is he here?"

"I tell you there is no one here; I tell you to think no more of

the affairs of this place; I tell you that--"

"I ask you if he is here;"

"Oh, just Heaven! Speak in another manner. Is it possible you

still retain so much warmth, after all that has happened?"

"Is he here, or is he not?"

"He is not. But the plague, my son, the plague keeps every one

from travelling at present."