“Still, we must get in.”
As he spoke, he broke in the door with a kick, and entered the house, followed by his master. It was deserted; they had carried off everything except a few wretched pieces of furniture, and the travellers’ apartment too was dismantled.
“We are robbed, monsieur,” said Bertrand.
“It looks to me very much like it, my friend.”
“Did you leave our money here?”
“Alas! yes, in the desk. It was all there except these ten gold pieces that I have in my pocket.”
“Ah! the rascals! To the devil with signoras, fine eyes and reverences! Why did we leave our hotel?”
“It was my fault, Bertrand, I realize it. It is my folly again that has caused this misfortune. But what’s the use of talking? the harm is done.”
“We must enter a complaint, monsieur; we must obtain justice.”
“Enter a complaint, my friend, in a country where we are strangers, and when we have nothing with which to pay for obtaining justice, which is very dear everywhere?”