"Pardieu!" he said, "from Touvois."
"No one is expected from there," replied the man, attempting to close the door; but it was not so easy to do this, for Courtin had his foot against it.
A ray of light darted into the farmer's mind; he remembered the words Michel had used to obtain the two horses from the landlord of the Point du Jour, and he felt certain that those words, which he had not understood at the time, were the countersign.
The man continued to push the door; but Courtin held firm.
"Wait, wait!" he said. "When I said I came from Touvois I was only trying to find out if you were in the secret; one can't take too many precautions in these devilish times. Well, there! I don't come from Touvois, I come from the South."
"And where are you going?" asked his questioner, without, however, yielding one inch of the way.
"Where do you expect me to go, if I come from the South, but to Rosny?"
"That's all right," said the servant; "but don't you see, my fine friend, that no one can come in here without showing a white paw?"
"For those who are all white, that isn't difficult."
"Hum! so much the better," said the man, a peasant of Lower Brittany, who was running over the beads of a chaplet in his hand while speaking.