"Did not monsieur see and hear her? Did
she not call me a monster, a devil, and ask if I
wanted to kill her, and all because I had that
bit of herb in my hand? But I have more of
it," he added, nodding shrewdly, "and I will
make the tisane when she is out. I will! You
see, monsieur, it is a hard case. Prudence had
the secret from her mother on her death-bed,
and she had it from her father in the same way;
but suppose Prudence dies suddenly. She cannot
give it to me in that case, and there I am!"

"Then she has promised to tell it to you on
her death-bed?"

"To be sure she has; I would not have
married her without. But, as I said; suppose she
dies suddenly?"

"Perhaps there is no secret," I suggested,
sceptically.

"Oh yes there is. Prudence never meddled
with vipers before her mother died, though she
always had a serpent or two about her."

"A serpent! And about her?"

"Yes, sir; she liked the creatures; she used
to have them coiled round her body to keep her
cool in hot weather, she said; and when she
was a girl, and frolicsome, she would run after
the other girls with a pet snake she had, and
frighten them. She was very fond of it, but it
vexed her one day, and she killed it."

"Did she ever make a pet of a viper?"

"No, she is afraid of vipers," he replied,
confidentially; "but she sometimes kills six in a day,
and they are worth ten sous apiece now. It is
hard that she will not tell me the secret."

I comforted him with a franc, which I slipped
into his hand as we at length reached the inn
and parted company. "Now," I thought, as I
sat down to a decent cup of coffee with no viper
associations about it, "who says the middle ages
are dead? Here is a mediæval state of things.
This woman believes in her charm, whatever it
may be, and goes forth to meet the viper, with the
faith of a hero wearing enchanted armour. Take
that faith away, and her natural fear comes on
and masters her. And yet how suited she is to
that occupation such as it is!—she is a feminine
viper. She has the creature's serpentine grace,
and its deadly look. I have no doubt that
it feels an affinity towards her, and goes to
its perdition with a kind of pleasure. She
whistles, and it comes; she feeds it, and it
drinks; when it is stupified and torpid, I
suppose she coolly kills it, puts it on a hank,
brings it home, and thereby earns ten sous. Yet
this creature could feel love, and could bestow her
regard on that brutish lump, her husband, who
is only contemplating the possibility of her
sudden death, and the pecuniary loss such a
calamity could entail upon him."

A pretty servant-girl was waiting upon me.
She had a frank communicative face; and as
soon as I had opened my lips to say at whose
house I had passed the night, she was ready,
good soul, with a torrent of words.

"Ah! good Heavens, she would not have slept
at Prudence's for the whole world. The woman
dealt in witchcraft, else how could she talk to
vipers and make them dance around her, then
kill and sell them for twelve sous apiece?"

"Ten," I corrected; "and the vipers do not
dance, mademoiselle."

"I beg monsieur's pardon. My own great-aunt
saw them dancing around Prudence's grandfather,
and of course they do the same now."

I suggested that these were degenerate days,
and that vipers might have lost their ancient gift;
but I was not heeded.

"It was witchcraft. Prudence took a drink
which made the vipers come when she breathed
upon them. But see you; that same drink made
her sallow, and Prudence was never in good health.
It would not end well. Prudence had gone mad
about her husband, and forced him to marry her,
when she might have had a much better match
in my informant's own uncle. But it would not
end well. Mathieu" (I now learned his name)
"would have no peace till he found out the
secret. Once he discovered it, the vipers could
set upon Prudence and bite and kill her."

The topic of Prudence having been fully
exhausted by the time I had despatched my first
course, I ordered a second, and turned to the
more congenial theme, botany. I did not utter
that barbarous word; but I inquired if dusty
gentlemen, who had evidently seen some hard
work, wandered about the country gathering
weeds, which they safely stowed away in tin
boxes.

"Oh yes!" was the eager reply, "I have seen
them. Does monsieur know what they do with
those weeds?"

I shook my head in solemn mystery.

"I suppose they sell them," said my pretty
waitress, looking pensive; "they cannot fetch
much."

"Less than vipers, I assure you; but what
direction do those poor fellows usually take?"

The explanation which followed was a tedious
one, and is not worth repeating. Suffice it that
I left the inn an hour after this, and that I
struck into a path which was to conduct me to
the other end of the forest which I had explored
on the preceding day.

The day was burning hot; the forest was
oppressively close; but my tin box overflowed
with some of the choicest plants I had ever
found. It was a glorious day. I felt exultant
and happy. I forgot fatigue, hunger, and thirst;
but I also forgot the directions the pretty girl
at the inn had given me, and the consequence
was that I got lost in the forest. Now, this was
not pleasant. The day was well-nigh spent, and
even Prudence's bed would have been a more
acceptable couch than the bare earth at the root of
a tree. Better dead vipers on a hank, than live
vipers at liberty. I had read that the viper is a
slandered animal, which never attacks man; but
just then my faith in such general maxims was
loose. I remembered the seven avenues I had
seen on the preceding day, and I wondered if I