“No, quite an old one, not so old perhaps as grandfather but enough old, for he has grown-up children.”
“That is well,” said Victor with satisfaction. “So then we consider the next thing.”
“I suppose that is Marchons again.”
“Yes, but not on foot. That will not do. I shall have the honor of being your coachman.”
“What do you mean? There can be no coaches left here.”
“You may not be overweeningly proud of your equipage, but it is better than none. At the present moment it lacks a wheel, but that is a simple matter to adjust, and good fortune for us, for because of this mishap to the ancient vehicle, it has been discarded, left behind, so to speak.”
“But how can one travel with but three wheels, or is it one?”
“There are still three, two quite good. From the third, one or two spokes are missing, but that is a small loss. There must be other wheels belonging to other carts which are no longer in existence. I purpose to find one. If it does not match exactly, that makes no difference.”
“But do you purpose to be steed as well as coachman?”
“Not at all. Behind a dilapidated house in a more dilapidated stable resides at the moment a small donkey who in some manner has been forgotten, or rather he was left behind because of the débris piled around him. No doubt his owner fled in haste and could not dig him out. I passed by the spot and examined it, discovering that it will not be so difficult as appears to extricate the beast, so I shall dig him out and there we have an equipage not to be despised, and much better than a wheelbarrow in which I might have had to bundle you and that poor Paulette.”