"If not, I shall do so myself."
"You mean it?"
"Certainly!"
"Well, I shall like to see the fun."
"You shall, Levasseur, take my word for it."
He began to strike up the lament of Saint Roch. While all this was taking place we had been going at a slow trot.
"Look here, Levasseur," I said, at the end of the first couplet, "I warn you that one minute has gone already."
Levasseur began intoning the second at the top of his voice; but just as he was going to begin the third I gave his horses a sound whack across their quarters with the stick. They made a leap forward and set off at full trot.
"Now, now, what are you doing?" asked the postillion.