"You are like the old Romans, who held that _hostis_ meant both a stranger and an enemy.
I will therefore be no longer a stranger.

My name is Ganlesse--by profession I am a Roman Catholic priest--I am travelling here in dread of my life--and I am very glad to have you for a companion." "I thank you for the information with all my heart," said Peveril; "and to avail myself of it to the uttermost, I must beg you to ride forward, or lag behind, or take a side-path, at your own pleasure; for as I am no Catholic, and travel upon business of high concernment, I am exposed both to risk and delay, and even to danger, by keeping such suspicious company.

And so, Master Ganlesse, keep your own pace, and I will keep the contrary; for I beg leave to forbear your company." As Peveril spoke thus, he pulled up his horse, and made a full stop.
The stranger burst out a-laughing.

"What!" he said, "you forbear my company for a trifle of danger?
Saint Anthony! How the warm blood of the Cavaliers is chilled in the young men of the present day! This young gallant, now, has a father, I warrant, who has endured as many adventures for hunting priests, as a knight-errant for distressed damsels." "This raillery avails nothing, sir," said Peveril.

"I must request you will keep your own way." "My way is yours," said the pertinacious Master Ganlesse, as he called himself; "and we will both travel the safer, that we journey in company.
I have the receipt of fern-seed, man, and walk invisible.