There was scarcely any shipping in the river, and even the fishermen had almost given up plying their business; their best customers had fallen under the guillotine, and there was no demand for fish on fast days--for to practise any of the observances of religion was considered to be, in itself, a proof of hostility to the Convention. Therefore Jean and Leigh rode into the courtyard of the little inn without having attracted any attention, whatever.
[Chapter 10]: Preparations For A Rescue.
"I have no accommodation for you here, citizens," a voice said, as Jean Martin and Leigh rode into the little courtyard, and a man with a wooden leg came out from the side door of the inn.
"I think you might be able to manage for us, Brenon," Jean said.
"Mon Dieu! it is--"
Jean held up his hand sharply.
"Yes, it is I, Citizen Gallon, from Vallet. It is not often that I stir so far from home, but I had business here."
"Well, well, I will see what I can do for you, comrade; but as you know, I don't profess to take in horses. My clients come from the waterside, and generally my stable is full of their baskets and ropes. However, I will see what I can do. I will tie them up in that shed, for the present, and then clear out a stall for them afterwards."
The horses were led to a shed, encumbered with fishing gear of all sorts.
"What madness has seized you, mon capitaine, to put your head into this lion's den?"