"It is very unkind of you to have chosen my inn for this execution; such a handsome captain, too!"
"Would you sooner have seen Chicot lying there, and Borromée alive?"
"No, oh no!" cried the host, from the very bottom of his heart.
"Well, that would have happened, however, had it not been for a miracle of Providence."—"Really?"
"Upon the word of Chicot, just look at my back, for it pains me a good deal, my dear friend."
And he stooped down before the innkeeper, so that both his shoulders might be on a level with the host's eye.
Between the two shoulders the doublet was pierced through, and a spot of blood as large and round as a silver crown piece reddened the edges of the hole.
"Blood!" cried Bonhomet, "blood! Ah, you are wounded!"
"Wait, wait."
And Chicot unfastened his doublet and his shirt. "Now look!" he said.