"You take fire on account of that little shepherdess, messieurs," said Robineau; "but mon Dieu! you’ll see a different sort on my domain! They say that there are some very buxom village girls near my château."
"I don’t care for buxom women, my dear Robineau!"
"I mean well-built—robust."
"I don’t care for robust women."
"But I mean well-shaped, wanton creatures."
"I don’t care for wantons."
"Oh! go to walk!"[7]
"Why, that is what we have been doing for a long while."
The young men passed divers lovely hillsides covered with vines. The landscape was charming—fields, pastures, orchards everywhere. Soon they saw before them a small town most delightfully situated on the banks of a winding stream. Some peasants informed them that they were at Saint-Amand.
"And La Roche-Noire?" inquired Robineau.