The idlers of the crossways of Capelette were considered the wildest wags in Condé.
“Whom do you take us for?” replied the unknown in a tone of severity, and with his club he touched an axle, made of iron, which instantly changed into one of pure silver.
“Who are you, then,” cried Roger, “that your word is as good as ready money?”
“I am St. Peter, and my companion is St. Antony, the patron of golfers.”
“Take the trouble to walk in, gentlemen,” said the wheelwright of Coq; and he ushered the two saints into the back parlour. He offered them chairs, and went to draw a jug of beer in the cellar. They clinked their glasses together, and after each had lit his pipe:
“Since you are so good, sir saints,” said Roger, “as to grant me the accomplishment of three wishes, know that for a long while I have desired three things. I wish, first of all, that whoever seats himself upon the elm-trunk at my door may not be able to rise without my permission. I like company and it bores me to be always alone.”
St. Peter shook his head and St. Antony nudged his client.
IV
“When I play a game of cards, on Sunday evening, at the ‘Fighting Cock,’” continued the wheelwright, “it is no sooner nine o’clock than the garde-champêtre comes to chuck us out. I desire that whoever shall have his feet on my leathern apron cannot be driven from the place where I shall have spread it.”
St. Peter shook his head, and St. Antony, with a solemn air, repeated: