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The pedestrian, after another pace or two, halted, and turned round. ¡¡¡¡`Now, sir, begging your pardon; we met last market-day on this road about this time, and I zaid "Good-night", and you made reply "Good night, Sir John", as now.' ¡¡¡¡`I did,' said the parson. ¡¡¡¡`And once before that - near a month ago.' ¡¡¡¡`I may have.' ¡¡¡¡`Then what might your meaning be in calling me "Sir John" these different times, when I be plain Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler?' ¡¡¡¡The parson rode a step or two nearer. ¡¡¡¡`It was only my whim,' he said; and, after a moment's hesitation: 'It was on account of a discovery I made some little time ago, whilst I was hunting up pedigrees for the new county history. I am Parson Tringham, the antiquary, of Stagfoot Lane. Don't you really know, Durbeyfield, that you are the lineal representative of the ancient and knightly family of the d'Urbervilles, who derived their descent from Sir Pagan d'Urberville, that renowned knight who came from Normandy with William the Conqueror, as appears by Battle Abbey Roll?'