‘Père José,’ resumed I, ‘a young lady and myself, who have just arrived here with weary horses, stand in need of your kind assistance.’ Here he pressed my hand gently, as if to assure me I was not mistaken in my man, and I went on: ‘We must reach Rochepied to-night; now, will you try and assist us at this conjuncture? We are complete strangers.’
‘Enough, enough!’ said he. ‘I’m sorry you are constrained for time. This is a sweet little place for a few days’ sojourn. But if,’ said he, ‘it can’t be, you shall have every aid in my power. I ‘ll send off to Poil de Vache for his mule and car. You don’t mind a little shaking?’ said he, smiling.
‘It’s no time to be fastidious, père, and the lady is an excellent traveller.’
‘The mule is a good beast, and will bring you in three hours, or even less.’ So saying, he sat down and wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper, with which he despatched a boy from the inn, telling him to make every haste. ‘And now monsieur, may I be permitted to pay my respects to mademoiselle?’
‘Most certainly, Père José; she will be but too happy to add her thanks to mine for what you have done for us.’
‘Say rather, for what I am about to do,’ said he, smiling.
‘The will is half the deed, father.’
‘A good adage, and an old,’ replied he, while he proceeded to arrange his drapery, and make himself as presentable as the nature of his costume would admit.
‘This was a rapid business of yours,’ said he, as he smoothed down his few locks at the back of his head.
‘That it was, père—a regular runaway.’