"And a fusillade!"
The landlord made up his account so that it came to just five hundred francs, and monsieur le baron was entitled to no change. Any other than Dubourg would have contested the charge of three hundred francs for laming three or four wretched horses which were too old to draw the plough; but he did not enjoy scrutinizing accounts; he contented himself with ordering a neat tilbury for the morrow, and two of the landlord's servants to represent his suite.
Dubourg then took cognizance of the contents of his cash-box; he found himself the possessor of forty-five hundred francs; that was more than he needed to win ten times as much. He trusted that the local ironmasters would make up the sum that the chevalier and the count with lace cuffs had filched from him.
The next day, about noon, Dubourg and Ménard prepared for their visit to Allevard, where they planned to arrive for dinner. As the innkeeper had been unable to find a tilbury in the city, his guests were obliged to be content with a yellow char-à-bancs with two seats. Dubourg and Ménard took their places on the first seat, and on the second they planted two little scullery boys, swaddled in jackets and trousers taken from different persons, and having on their heads old hunting-caps which came down to their noses and gave them a decidedly foreign aspect. Dubourg expressly enjoined upon them to pretend not to understand French, but to confine themselves to making signs, so that they might pass for two young Poles; and they solemnly promised to obey.
They set out, Dubourg driving; but although he had asked the host for his best horses, he could not succeed in inducing them to gallop; he had to be content with a very moderate trot, which necessarily delayed their arrival. Ménard was afraid that they would dine without them, and Dubourg was in despair because he could not enter Monsieur Chambertin's domain with the speed of a locomotive.
It was half-past five when at last they descried the roofs of Allevard. Dubourg exhausted himself trying to increase the speed of his horses. As they drew near Monsieur Chambertin's house, in front of which there was a large number of people, he said to Ménard:
"Poke them with your cane, so that we may drive up at a decent trot at least."
As Ménard put out his arm to comply, they heard a great outcry of: "Here they are! here they are!" Four musket-shots followed in rapid succession, two violins and a clarinet executed the overture to La Caravane; and the two nags, frightened by the reports and the music, shied and dragged the char-à-bancs up a hillside to the right of the road, instead of keeping on toward the house.
"This is charming, delightful!" cried Dubourg; while Ménard, who was afraid of being overturned, exclaimed:
"Take care, monsieur le baron; our horses are running away!"