And as they
told these stories to each other, one who had looked about him would
pull his neighbour by the sleeve, and there he would be among them.
At last, one man--he was one of those whose commerce lay among the
graves--resolved to question this strange companion. Next night, when
he had eat his poor meal voraciously (he was accustomed to do that, they
had observed, as though he had no other in the day), this fellow sat
down at his elbow.
'A black night, master!'
'It is a black night.'
'Blacker than last, though that was pitchy too. Didn't I pass you near
the turnpike in the Oxford Road?'
'It's like you may. I don't know.'
'Come, come, master,' cried the fellow, urged on by the looks of his
comrades, and slapping him on the shoulder; 'be more companionable and
communicative. Be more the gentleman in this good company. There are
tales among us that you have sold yourself to the devil, and I know not
what.'
'We all have, have we not?' returned the stranger, looking up. 'If we
were fewer in number, perhaps he would give better wages.'
'It goes rather hard with you, indeed,' said the fellow, as the stranger
disclosed his haggard unwashed face, and torn clothes.
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