"But, my dear Abbé!" protested Fandor: "I beg of you to take the room! I can sleep anywhere ... on two chairs in the dining-room!"
"Certainly not!" declared the little priest. He turned to the hotel-keeper: "Tell me just how far the parsonage is from here?"
"At least eight kilometres."
"Oh, then, it is out of the question! What a disagreeable business this is!... We shall pass a dreadful night!"
The abbé was greatly put out.
"No, no! I will leave the room to you!" again protested Fandor.
"Do not talk so childishly, Corporal! We have to be on the road again to-morrow. What good purpose will it serve if we allow ourselves to be over-fatigued and so fit for nothing?... After all, a bad night will not last forever!... We must manage to put up with the inconvenience."
Fandor nodded acquiescence. Things were going as he wished.
"Dinner at once!" ordered the abbé.
An affable Normandy girl laid their table in a small room: a profusion of black cocks with scarlet combs decorated the paper on its walls. The effect was at once bewildering and weirdly funereal.