As they approached the inn Auguste espied Bertrand, striding back and forth in front of the establishment, looking to right and left with gestures of impatience, and swearing energetically from time to time. When he caught sight of Auguste, he ran to meet him and made a horrible wry face at the young woman who was hanging on his master’s arm.
“Here you are at last, monsieur! Sacrebleu! I thought that you’d left me here to chase the swallows!”
“Don’t get excited, Bertrand, I am here. I am not lost, you see. Well, when do we start?”
“Start! start for where, monsieur?”
“Why, for Lyon, of course!”
“And is that why you let the diligence go—that you made me wait and call you and look everywhere for you?”
“What’s that? the diligence has gone?”
“Morbleu, yes! more than an hour ago; but the time evidently didn’t seem long to you!”
“The diligence has gone!” repeated Auguste, dropping his companion’s arm; but she, evidently setting great store by its support, instantly took it again, saying:
“That’s very amusing! isn’t it, my dear friend?”