"You, Monsieur Quinette, have the goodness to take me to M. Jousselin."
"It is a long way off."
"Bah! what matter? If we work in harmony, things will come out all right! In half or three-quarters of an hour at longest we shall all be back here again!"
Bard resumed his post, Hutin left to fulfil his commission and M. Quinette and I to fulfil ours. We reached M. Jousselin's door.
"Here we are," M. Quinette said, "but you will understand my feelings: I belong to the town and have to stop in it after you have gone, so I would rather you went alone to see M. Jousselin."
"If that is all, I don't mind!"
With that, I entered M. Jousselin's house. I must confess that, at the moment, neither my looks nor my dress were calculated to inspire confidence in the minds of others. I had lost my straw hat somewhere or other, my face was sunburnt and streaming with perspiration; my voice, at one moment, would sound loud like a trumpet, at the next, it was shrill almost to imperceptibility; my jacket, bulging with the pistols, was gradually losing what few buttons had adorned it and, finally, my gaiters and shoes were still soiled with blood which the dust of the road had not effaced. It was not, therefore, surprising that, when M. Jousselin saw me thus equipped and with my double-barrelled gun on my shoulder, he recoiled in his armchair as far as he could get.
"What is your business with me?" he asked.
I explained the object of my visit as succinctly as I could, for I was pressed for time; moreover, had I wanted to use lengthy phrases I could not have done so, as I could scarcely speak for hoarseness. M. Jousselin raised several objections, which I cleared away as fast as he put them; but I saw we might go on endlessly.