This man had noticed that one of the strangers was prowling about Goton, and it had irritated him; but he had not dared to watch him too closely, being still held in respect by the recollection of the pistols.
When all three of his comrades had their heads on the table, he rose softly and went out to look for Goton, knowing the location of her bedroom. He took no light, in order not to betray his whereabouts, and crept stealthily toward the cow-barn.
He was still some yards away, when he heard two voices saying some very pretty things to each other; he crept nearer, and grasped the thread of the conversation distinctly enough; for Dubourg and Goton, thinking that their only neighbors were animals, were talking together without restraint.
The peddler was furious, but how could he be revenged? He had no desire to pick a quarrel with Dubourg; it would be a waste of time to call the landlord, for that worthy man and his spouse always locked themselves in their room to avoid being disturbed; besides, who would dare to assume the task of getting the hostess out of bed? and, after all, what did it matter to them that a guest was with their servant? they probably did not consider themselves responsible for Goton's virtue.
The peddler determined to play some trick on the amorous couple. He could think of nothing better than to hook the door on the outside, which he did very softly, then stole away, delighted with his exploit, and saying to himself:
"They won't get out of that place till someone lets 'em out; for the door's a stout one, and I defy 'em to break it down."
He joined his companions; day broke ere long, and their business required the peddlers to leave the inn. They were soon ready, and, as they shouldered their packs, they listened to their confrère's story of the trick he had played on the stranger. They all applauded him, being overjoyed to be revenged on a man who had refused to be frightened by their cudgels; and they went their way, laughing at the thought of the scene that would take place at the inn in the morning.
During these occurrences, Ménard did not continue in the same tranquil state in which we left him. The white wine, with which monsieur le baron had filled his glass so often, produced its due effect. Ménard woke; he turned over and put out his hand to find the chair, which he expected to use as a means of descending from his bed; for in such wretched inns there is never a night table. But to no purpose did he stretch out his arm and feel about in all directions. He could find no chair! In that case, how was he to climb down from that bed, which reached to the roof? yet he felt sure that it was becoming absolutely necessary. He listened, but could hear nothing; he put aside the curtains—the most profound darkness reigned in the room. Monsieur le baron must have gone to sleep in his chair, as he had planned to do; but, in any event, how could he presume to ask the Palatine of Rava to give him the—— No, he could never do that! On the other hand, to jump out of bed was to run the risk of hurting himself, or at least of not being able to get back. It was most embarrassing, and poor Ménard, sitting up in bed, could not decide what course to pursue.
Necessity knows no law, says an old proverb; besides, monsieur le baron was so kind and good-natured and obliging! This thought emboldened Ménard; he coughed, gently at first, then a little louder; and finally he ventured to call, in a low tone:
"Monsieur le baron—if you are not asleep, may I presume to ask you to assist me? I am sadly embarrassed, monsieur le baron."