“No one knows. It must be some leagues away, however, for his messenger seems tired and weary when he comes, and never returns the same day.”
“Is it not possible he may have pushed on to the coast, finding this place occupied?”
“Ah, sir, it is plain you know him not; he has no daring like this, and would never seek a new path if the old were closed against him. But after all, it would be useless here.”
“How so?”
“The letters have not come yet, and without them he could not leave the coast. Meanwhile, be cautious: take care lest your absence should be remarked by the men; return to them now, and if anything occur, I will make a signal for you.”
The landlord's advice was well timed, for I found that the party were already becoming impatient at my delay, and wondering what had caused it.
“They say, Comrade,” said a short-set, dark-featured Breton, whose black beard and mustache left little vestige of a human face visible,—“they say that the cavalry of the Guard give themselves airs with us marines, and that our company is not good enough for them. Is this the case?”
“It is the first time I have heard the remark,” replied I, “and I hope it may be the last; with us of the Eighth I know such a feeling never existed; and yet we thought ourselves not inferior to our neighbors.”
“Then why did you leave us just now?” grumbled out two or three in a breath.
“You shall know that presently,” said I, smiling; at the same time I arose and opened the door. “You may bring in the Burgundy now, Master Joseph; we are all ready for it.”