"I would e'en't," says he.
The third letter came to my hand while we were deep in some such
talk: and it will be seen how pat it fell to the occasion. James
professed to be in some concern upon his daughter's health, which I
believe was never better; abounded in kind expressions to myself;
and finally proposed that I should visit them at Dunkirk.
"You will now be enjoying the society of my old comrade Mr.
Stewart," he wrote. "Why not accompany him so far in his return to
France? I have something very particular for Mr. Stewart's ear;
and, at any rate, I would be pleased to meet in with an old fellow-
soldier and one so mettle as himself. As for you, my dear sir, my
daughter and I would be proud to receive our benefactor, whom we
regard as a brother and a son. The French nobleman has proved a
person of the most filthy avarice of character, and I have been
necessitate to leave the haras. You will find us in consequence a
little poorly lodged in the auberge of a man Bazin on the dunes;
but the situation is caller, and I make no doubt but we might spend
some very pleasant days, when Mr. Stewart and I could recall our
services, and you and my daughter divert yourselves in a manner
more befitting your age. I beg at least that Mr. Stewart would
come here; my business with him opens a very wide door."
"What does the man want with me?" cried Alan, when he had read.
"What he wants with you in clear enough--it's siller. But what can
he want with Alan Breck?"
"O, it'll be just an excuse," said I. "He is still after this
marriage, which I wish from my heart that we could bring about.
And he asks you because he thinks I would be less likely to come
wanting you."
"Well, I wish that I kent," says Alan. "Him and me were never
onyways pack; we used to girn at ither like a pair of pipers.
'Something for my ear,' quo' he! I'll maybe have something for his
hinder-end, before we're through with it. Dod, I'm thinking it
would be a kind of divertisement to gang and see what he'll be
after! Forby that I could see your lassie then. What say ye,
Davie? Will ye ride with Alan?"
You may be sure I was not backward, and Alan's furlough running
towards an end, we set forth presently upon this joint adventure.
It was near dark of a January day when we rode at last into the
town of Dunkirk. We left our horses at the post, and found a guide
to Bazin's Inn, which lay beyond the walls. Night was quite
fallen, so that we were the last to leave that fortress, and heard
the doors of it close behind us as we passed the bridge. On the
other side there lay a lighted suburb, which we thridded for a
while, then turned into a dark lane, and presently found ourselves
wading in the night among deep sand where we could hear a bullering
of the sea. We travelled in this fashion for some while, following
our conductor mostly by the sound of his voice; and I had begun to
think he was perhaps misleading us, when we came to the top of a
small brae, and there appeared out of the darkness a dim light in a
window.
"Voila l'auberge a Bazin," says the guide.
Alan smacked his lips. "An unco lonely bit," said he, and I
thought by his tone he was not wholly pleased.
A little after, and we stood in the lower storey of that house,
which was all in the one apartment, with a stairs leading to the
chambers at the side, benches and tables by the wall, the cooking
fire at the one end of it, and shelves of bottles and the cellar-
trap at the other. Here Bazin, who was an ill-looking, big man,
told us the Scottish gentleman was gone abroad he knew not where,
but the young lady was above, and he would call her down to us.
I took from my breast that kerchief wanting the corner, and knotted
it about my throat. I could hear my heart go; and Alan patting me
on the shoulder with some of his laughable expressions, I could
scarce refrain from a sharp word.