"Oh, of course, 'tis the direct road from Russia to France, 'twas a
thousand to one that we should find them somewhere between Wittenberg and
Leipsic."

"And the description?"

"Very close: two young girls in mourning; horse, white; the old man has
long moustache, blue forage-cap; gray topcoat and a Siberian dog at his
heels."

"And where did you leave them?"

"A league hence. They will be here within the hour."

"And in this inn--since it is the only one in the village," said Morok,
with a pensive air.

"And night drawing on," added Karl.

"Did you get the old man to talk?"

"Him!--you don't suppose it!"

"Why not?"

"Go, and try yourself."

"And for what reason?"