And he again started his horses off at a gallop. But at the end of two hundred yards there was another sudden pause.
"What's the matter now?" demanded the traveller. "Is anything the matter with your harness?" he reiterated, seeing the postilion busying himself with his saddle-girth, uttering the most frightful oaths all the while.
There was no reply but another long string of furious imprecations, however.
"Is your horse disabled?"
Another string of oaths was the only answer.
"At least tell me what is the matter, my boy."
"Oh, never mind, monsieur, I've fixed everything all right now."
"Well, try to keep it all right, then."
"We shall fly along the road like birds, now, never fear, bourgeois," responded the youth, springing into the saddle and cracking his whip furiously.
The shades of night were falling, a few stars were already visible in the western horizon, but in the distance one could still dimly discern, by reason of the chalky character of the soil, a steep hill bordered by tall elm-trees.