He turned his gray eyes from the driver to his fellow-travellers and
showed them a pistol in his belt.

"Bretons are not afraid of that," said the rector, disdainfully.
"Besides, do we look like men who want your money?"

Every time the word "money" was mentioned the driver was silent, and
the rector had wit enough to doubt whether the patriot had any at all,
and to suspect that the driver was carrying a good deal.

"Are you well laden, Coupiau?" he asked.

"Oh, no, Monsieur Gudin," replied the coachman. "I'm carrying next to
nothing."

The priest watched the faces of the patriot and Coupiau as the latter
made this answer, and both were imperturbable.

"So much the better for you," remarked the patriot. "I can now take
measures to save my property in case of danger."

Such despotic assumption nettled Coupiau, who answered gruffly: "I am
the master of my own carriage, and so long as I drive you--"

"Are you a patriot, or are you a Chouan?" said the other, sharply
interrupting him.

"Neither the one nor the other," replied Coupiau. "I'm a postilion,
and, what is more, a Breton,--consequently, I fear neither Blues nor