After they had run for more than a league, as if they were pursued, Ménard, utterly exhausted, stopped, declared that he could hold out no longer, and dropped on the turf. Dubourg thought that they could safely halt for a while, so he seated himself beside his companion.
"Will you kindly tell me now, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, when he had recovered his breath, "why we are running away like thieves from our friend Chambertin's, where we were overwhelmed with attentions, luxuriously quartered, and fed like epicures; where, in a word, we were treated with the regard we deserve?"
"My dear Monsieur Ménard, the jug that goes often to the well ends by being broken or filled, as you choose; and in this case I rather think both things have happened."
"What jug are you talking about? what have you broken? I don't understand you, monsieur le baron."
"So I see, and I will explain my meaning in another way. Did you notice that man they called Durosey, who didn't arrive at friend Chambertin's until this evening?"
"Yes, monsieur le baron."
"Do you know who that man is?"
"I heard it said that he was a retired merchant."
"Yes, he represented himself as such, the better to deceive me, no doubt. Did you notice what a forbidding face he had?"
"I noticed that he looked at you very often, monsieur le baron, with close attention."