“‘To the right,’ said Caderousse. ‘You cannot go wrong—the road is bordered by trees on both sides.’
“‘Good—all right,’ said a voice almost lost in the distance.
“‘Close the door,’ said La Carconte; ‘I do not like open doors when it thunders.’
“‘Particularly when there is money in the house, eh?’ answered Caderousse, double-locking the door.
“He came into the room, went to the cupboard, took out the bag and pocket-book, and both began, for the third time, to count their gold and bank-notes. I never saw such an expression of cupidity as the flickering lamp revealed in those two countenances. The woman, especially, was hideous; her usual feverish tremulousness was intensified, her countenance had become livid, and her eyes resembled burning coals.
“‘Why,’ she inquired in a hoarse voice, ‘did you invite him to sleep here tonight?’
“‘Why?’ said Caderousse with a shudder; ‘why, that he might not have the trouble of returning to Beaucaire.’
“‘Ah,’ responded the woman, with an expression impossible to describe; ‘I thought it was for something else.’
“‘Woman, woman—why do you have such ideas?’ cried Caderousse; ‘or, if you have them, why don’t you keep them to yourself?’