"Wait a moment! here comes a worthy peasant who will be our cicerone."
A villager approached, with a spade and pickaxe over his shoulder. He was about to descend the hill. Alfred called him and he came toward them touching his hat. The peasants are much more polite in Auvergne than in the suburbs of Paris.
"Will you be kind enough to tell us, my good man, the name of the little town we see yonder, between two streams?"
"That is Saint-Amand, messieurs. It’s a pretty little town. The little stream you see over here is the Veyre, which rises at Pagnia, a village over in this direction; it runs into the Mone, and they both run into the Allier. The Mone comes from Saint-Saturnin, half a league from Saint-Amand. See, where I’m pointing."
"What sort of a place is Saint-Saturnin?"
"Oh! it’s a big village; it used to be a town, and a fortified town too."
"Is there a château thereabout?" inquired Robineau.
"Oh, yes, monsieur; there’s a castle."
"Called La Roche-Noire?"
"No, monsieur, no; that one’s the Château of Saint-Saturnin."