"Have you a grindstone here, or anything that weighs about twelve or fifteen hundred pounds?" he asked.
"There's the block of stone you are sitting on," said a soldier.
Courte-Joie shrugged his shoulders.
"If that stone had a handle Trigaud would pick it up for you with one hand."
"There's that millstone we tipped up before the grating of the dungeon," said a soldier.
"Why not tell him to lift the whole building at once?" said the corporal. "It took six of you men to put it where it is, and with levers, too. I was furious that my rank forbade me from lending a hand to what I called a pack of idlers."
"Besides, you must not touch that millstone," interposed the sergeant; "that's also against orders. There's a prisoner in the cellar."
Courte-Joie gave Trigaud a glance, and the latter, paying no attention to the sergeant's remark, went straight to the millstone.
"Don't you hear me?" said the sergeant, raising his voice, and catching Trigaud by the arm; "you are not to touch it."
"Why not?" said Courte-Joie. "If he moves it he'll replace it; don't be afraid."