" "Be silent, and conceal yourself. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. " "Never mind," returned the stranger, dismounting; "you'll recollect me by and by, I've no doubt. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. In fact, Mr. ‘Jacques, you have been very much my friend. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story.
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