“Well, we are safe now,” said Edouard, softly putting his head out from under the vegetables which covered him, and seeing nothing but trees and fields about him,—no houses.
“You always think that you are safe, you idiot,” said Lampin, “but we are not out of danger yet; we have just left Toulon; this peasant is taking us to his village, where we shall be pinched.”
“We must get out of the wagon and hide.”
“A fine thing to do! hide! Where, I should like to know? In the trees, like parrots? We must gain ground first, and with these chains on our feet, we shan’t go far.”
“We will file them.”
“Have we got the time? Come, let’s make a bold stroke; we are in a sunken road, and I don’t see any houses, and—first of all, get down, quick.”
“And then?”
“Get down, I tell you, and stop the horse quietly; meanwhile I will begin by searching our driver.”
Edouard got down from the wagon. Lampin drew in the reins, and the horse stopped.
“We must unharness him, and escape on him,” said Lampin; “let’s make haste.”