"Ah!" he said, "I am glad to see that you have got a carriage, for I am dreadfully saddle sore!"
Then, as he stepped to the ground, he said, "There are your horse and pistols."
"You did not think to bring a shirt too?"
"Upon my word I didn't! I don't think you mentioned anything about a shirt."
"No, it is my own fault.... Hand the horse to the stable lad, take the pistols and be sharp and get in; it is five o'clock already!"
"A quarter to five," the post-master remarked, looking at his watch.
"Do you think we shall reach Soissons before eleven to-night?"
"It will be a difficult job—but there, so many miracles have happened the last three days that it would not be impossible for you to perform this one."
And he gave orders to the postillion to mount the horse.
"Are you on?" he asked.