“Patout, I promise, in my honor, to do my best to be rid of all that annoys you. I am no less impatient than you; so I’ll ask you not to go to bed, my good Patout.”
“Ah! You know well, monsieur, that when you come I don’t often go to bed. As for the horse—Goodness! You change them every day? The time before last it was a chestnut, the last time a dapple-gray, now a black one.”
“Yes, I’m somewhat capricious by nature. As to the horse, as you say, my dear Patout, he wants nothing. You need only remove his bridle; leave him saddled. Oh, wait; put this pistol back in the holsters and take care of these other two for me.” And the young man removed the two from his belt and handed them to the hostler.
“Well,” exclaimed the latter, laughing, “any more barkers?”
“You know, Patout, they say the roads are unsafe.”
“Ah! I should think they weren’t safe! We’re up to our necks in regular highway robberies, M. Charles. Why, no later than last week they stopped and robbed the diligence between Geneva and Bourg!”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Morgan; “and whom do they accuse of the robbery?”
“Oh, it’s such a farce! Just fancy; they say it was the Companions of Jesus. I don’t believe a word of it, of course. Who are the Companions of Jesus if not the twelve apostles?”
“Of course,” said Morgan, with his eternally joyous smile, “I don’t know of any others.”
“Well!” continued Patout, “to accuse the twelve apostles of robbing a diligence, that’s the limit. Oh! I tell you, M. Charles, we’re living in times when nobody respects anything.”