“Then he who is bigger than you?”
“He! who?”
“Oh! Holy Virgin, I promise you a dozen wax candles, if he also cannot pass.”
“M. Chicot!”
“Get up.”
The monk raised himself from the ground as quickly as he could.
“Now lead me to the hole.”
“Where you wish.”
“Go on, then, wretch.”
Gorenflot went on as fast as he was able, while Chicot indulged himself by giving him a few blows with the cord. They traversed the corridor, and descended into the garden.