in Semur as a dreamer of dreams--one who holds a great many
impracticable and foolish opinions--though the respect which I always
exact for those whose lives are respectable and worthy has been a
protection to hire. He was, I think, aware that he owed something to my
good offices, and it was to me accordingly that he addressed himself.

'Good evening, M. le Maire,' he said; 'you are groping about, like
myself, in this strange night.'

'Good evening M. Paul,' I replied. 'It is, indeed, a strange night. It
indicates, I fear, that a storm is coming.'

M. Paul shook his head. There is a solemnity about even his ordinary
appearance. He has a long face, pale, and adorned with a heavy, drooping
moustache, which adds much to the solemn impression made by his
countenance. He looked at me with great gravity as he stood in the
shadow of the lamp, and slowly shook his head.

'You do not agree with me? Well! the opinion of a man like M. Paul
Lecamus is always worthy to be heard.'

'Oh!' he said, 'I am called visionary. I am not supposed to be a
trustworthy witness. Nevertheless, if M. Le Maire will come with me, I
will show him something that is very strange--something that is almost
more wonderful than the darkness--more strange,' he went on with great
earnestness, 'than any storm that ever ravaged Burgundy.'

'That is much to say. A tempest now when the vines are in full
bearing--'