horses which dragged it along a road which was more than rough. This
monument of a past era contained three travellers, who, on leaving
Ernee, where they had changed horses, continued a conversation begun
with the driver before reaching the little town.

"What makes you think the Chouans are hereabouts?" said the coachman.
"The Ernee people tell me that Commandant Hulot has not yet started
from Fougeres."

"Ho, ho, friend driver!" said the youngest of the travellers, "you
risk nothing but your own carcass! If you had a thousand francs about
you, as I have, and were known to be a good patriot, you wouldn't take
it so easy."

"You are pretty free with your tongue, any way," said the driver,
shaking his head.

"Count your lambs, and the wolf will eat them," remarked another of
the travellers.

This man, who was dressed in black, seemed to be about forty years
old, and was, probably, the rector of some parish in the neighborhood.
His chin rested on a double fold of flesh, and his florid complexion
indicated a priest. Though short and fat, he displayed some agility
when required to get in or out of the vehicle.

"Perhaps you are both Chouans!" cried the man of the thousand francs,
whose ample goatskin, covering trousers of good cloth and a clean
waistcoat, bespoke a rich farmer. "By the soul of Saint Robespierre! I
swear you shall be roughly handled."