Thereupon M. Stangstadius, without troubling himself to wait for leave from Christian, undertook to mount Jean, whom he persisted in taking for a horse, and whose small stature and quiet pace had impressed him very favorably. As to his load, he paid no sort of attention to that, although it was very effectually in his way.
“Let the beast alone, will you!” said Christian, annoyed at his obstinacy. “M. Goefle’s nephew went away with his uncle, and Stollborg is shut up like a prison.”
“The young man gone too!” cried Stangstadius, in the greatest amazement. “Mon Dieu! some great misfortune must have happened in that family, or both uncle and nephew would never have forgotten my promise. But they must, anyhow, have left a letter for me, and I’ll go and get it.”
“They did not leave any letter,” said Christian, bethinking him of a new expedient; “they directed me to say to some person of the name of Stangstadius at the new chateau that they had been obliged to go away. That is why I am going to the new chateau.”
“Person of the name of Stangstadius!” cried the insulted philosopher; “is that what they said?”
“No, monsieur; that is what I said. I don’t know this M. Stangstadius, myself.”
“Ah, you said it, did you, you idiot? Person of the name of Stangstadius, indeed! Don’t know him yourself, you great beast! Good, by George! I like that! Very well, learn to know me, then. I am the first naturalist—But what’s the use? Such monstrous ignoramuses as one finds on this poor earth! Stop your horse, you animal! Did I not tell you I wanted to ride? I’m tired, I say. Do you suppose I don’t know how to manage any kind of beast whatever?”
“Come, come, M. Naturalist,” said Christian, with perfect coolness, although feeling very much annoyed at this interview, which was delaying him so unexpectedly; “don’t you see that the poor creature is loaded up to his eyes already?”
“What of that? Unload him, I say! you can come back for your load.”
“Impossible. I can’t spare the time.”