“Oh, yes! a bad place,” repeated the other peasant.
“Come, now, explain yourselves, you rascals,” said Roland, who was growing angry, while his mother seemed uneasy, and Amélie visibly turned pale.
“Beg pardon, Monsieur Louis,” answered the peasant; “we are not rascals; we’re God-fearing men, that’s all.”
“By thunder,” cried Roland, “I’m a God-fearing man myself. What of that?”
“Well, we don’t care to have any dealings with the devil.”
“No, no, no,” asserted the second peasant.
“A man can match a man if he’s of his own kind,” continued the first peasant.
“Sometimes two,” said the second, who was built like a Hercules.
“But with ghostly beings phantoms, spectres—no thank you,” continued the first peasant.
“No, thank you,” repeated the other.