"Oh! that ain’t very far away, monsieur; but you don’t want to go through Saint-Amand. Turn off here—to Saint-Saturnin; you’ll find the way easy enough."
"Good!" said Robineau; "my property is evidently known here; forward, messieurs."
"Why, you go like a stag, Robineau! Give us a little chance to breathe."
"I shan’t breathe until I am at my château."
And Robineau hastened forward, although the perspiration was streaming from his brow and he was as red as a boiled lobster. After walking another quarter of an hour, the young men overtook two young peasants who were driving a laden ass.
"Where are you going, my friends?" asked Robineau.
"Home, monsieur."
"Where do you live?"
"About a half a league from here, near the Château de la Roche-Noire."
"Near La Roche-Noire!" cried Robineau, in an ecstasy of delight. "They are two of my vassals!"