“The Chariot of Death will not wait for you.”
“In that case I shall have to go on my two feet.”
“Breugnon, my brother,” said he solemnly, “relinquish your hold on the things of this world; why should you cling to them since they are naught but vanity and vexation of spirit?”
“Too true,” said I, “and it breaks my heart to think of leaving old friends like you behind me in the midst of such desolation.”
“We shall meet again!” said he, rolling up his eyes.
“Let it be soon then! You remember the motto of the Duke of Guise, ‘Where I lead you follow!’”
“Come, come, Breugnon, time is passing, and so are you; do you want the father of lies to snap up your sinful soul for his dinner? He will, if you do not make your confession quickly, Colas! I entreat you for my sake!”
“For yours, for God’s, and for my own sake,” said I, “but first I have a word or two to say to the notary.”
“Is it possible, Breugnon, that you will make the Eternal wait for the scrivener?”
“The Eternal has all eternity, so He will not mind waiting, besides it is more polite for me to take leave of this world which I am quitting, before I greet the next world where I am—perhaps—expected.”