A night’s sleep suffices to banish the fumes of wine and to restore calmness to our minds; a night of love often suffices to banish many illusions and to restore calmness to our senses. After the night at the inn with Madame Florimont, both Auguste and Bertrand reflected more coolly concerning their position: the latter had not for a moment failed to realize the fresh embarrassment in which Auguste had involved himself; and Auguste, who perhaps was already weary of playing pantomime with his young fellow-traveller, felt that he had made a fool of himself. But how was he to rid himself courteously of a lady who constantly said to him:
“I will go wherever you please, my friend.”
After breakfast, Auguste asked if they could obtain a conveyance to take them to Lyon. To travel by post would be too expensive for people who wished to be economical, although no one would ever have suspected Auguste of such a wish, as he always insisted upon being entertained en grand seigneur.
A leather dealer, who owned a large two-seated cabriolet, offered to take the travellers with him. To be sure, he would take four days for the trip, because his business compelled him to stop at several places; but they were in no hurry, so they made a bargain with the leather dealer, who packed our three travellers in his vehicle.
Auguste and the emotional Adèle took their places on the back seat, Bertrand beside the tradesman on the front seat, and they started, drawn by a single horse, large enough for two, but with no apparent disposition to take the bit in his teeth.
Bertrand chatted with the driver, a tall fellow of twenty-eight or thirty years, who passed a large part of his life on his wagon, was better acquainted with taverns than with his own house, where he spent less than three months of the year, and declared that not a maid servant within a radius of thirty leagues had been unkind to him.
Auguste looked at the landscape and tried to make Madame Florimont talk.
“What do you think of this view?”
“Why, it’s very ugly.”
“What? That wooded slope, the valley on the left, with the stream flowing through it, and yonder pretty village in the background—you call that ugly?”