“That you may not be taken prisoner as his murderer.”
“I, a murderer! it was he who tried to murder me.”
“Mon Dieu! yes, and as he could not succeed, his rage made him break a blood-vessel. But till your innocence is established they might annoy you much.”
“I fear you are right.”
“Then do what I tell you. Install yourself here, and recite all the prayers you know, or do not know; then, when evening comes, go out and call at the ironmonger’s at the corner of the street. There you will find your horse; mount him, and take the road to Paris; at Villeneuve-le-Roi sell him, and take Panurge back.”
“Ah! that good Panurge; I shall be delighted to see him again. But how am I to live?”
Chicot drew from his pocket a handful of crowns and put them into the large hand of the monk.
“Generous man!” cried Gorenflot. “Let me stay with you at Lyons; I love Lyons.”
“But I do not stay here; I set off at once, and travel too rapidly for you to follow me.”
“So be it, then.”