"My goatskin, you idiot!"
"And what will you do, Jacques?"
"Take it; when I get into the carriage the heat will fly to my head, and I shall sleep in spite of myself."
"Then, Jacques, I accept your skin all the more cheerfully, my old fellow, for if you fall asleep you will turn us over."
"Here, put it on," said Jacques, taking off his goatskin, in which his companion soon wrapped himself. "Come, now," said Bastien, passing his hand over his forehead, "I feel more like myself; I am better."
And Jacques, with a less unsteady step, reached the gate that André had just opened from the outside, as he led the old white horse, hitched to the carriage, to a convenient spot for his master.
Bastien jumped into the carriage first; Bridou, embarrassed by the goatskin, stumbled on the foot-board.
"Take care, master, take care," said old André, deceived by the goatskin, and thinking he was addressing M. Bastien. "Pay attention, master!"
"Jacques, this must be a regular lion's skin," whispered the bailiff. "Your servant takes me for you, old fellow, because I have on your cloak."
Bastien, whose mind continued to be somewhat confused, took the reins and said to André, who stood at the horse's head: