“Can I not have a moment’s rest?” cried the monk, who had been sleeping for ten hours.
“Be quick; get up and dress, for we are going.”
“But the breakfast?”
“Is on the road to Monterau.”
“Where is Monterau?”
“It is the city where we breakfast, that is enough for you. Now, I am going down to pay the bill, and if you are not ready in five minutes, I go without you.”
A monk’s toilet takes not long; however, Gorenflot took six minutes, and when he came down Chicot was starting. This day passed much like the former one, and by the third, Gorenflot was beginning to get accustomed to it, when towards the evening, Chicot lost all his gaiety. Since noon he had seen nothing of the three travelers; therefore he was in a very bad humor. They were off at daybreak and galloped till noon, but all in vain; no mules were visible. Chicot stopped at a turnpike, and asked the man if he had seen three travelers pass on mules.
“Not to-day,” was the reply, “yesterday evening about seven.”
“What were they like?”
“They looked like a master and two servants!”