"Is the old road to Blémur good?"
"The old road? Why, nobody can pass, monsieur."
"Why?"
"Because the overflow has washed up everything, monsieur, without counting the embankment on the side of the pond which has been swept away,—so from that place the road is still covered ten feet in water."
"That is a pity, for that would have shortened our way wonderfully," replied Bastien, whipping the horse so vigorously that it started off at a full gallop.
"Softly, Jacques, softly," said the bailiff, beginning to feel concerned about his comrade's condition. "The roads are not good and you must not upset us. Come, come now, Jacques, do pay attention! Ah, you do not look an inch before you!"
We will leave M. Bridou in his constantly increasing perplexity and will return to the farm.
As we have said, Marie, after having tried in vain to reach the stable through the garden gate, came back and cowered down in one of the corners of the porch.
During the first half-hour the cold had caused her the most painful suffering. To this torture succeeded a sort of numbness at first very distressing; then soon followed a state of almost complete insensibility, an invincible torpor, which in such circumstances often proves a transition to death.
Marie, brave as ever, preserved her presence of mind a long time and tried to divert her thoughts from the danger that she was running, saying to herself that at three o'clock in the morning there must necessarily be some stir in the house caused by the departure of M. Bastien, who wished, as Marguerite had told her, to set out on his journey at the rising of the moon.