“Stop! you young monkey,” said I. “You’ll be swinging soon, perhaps, by your neck instead of by your tail, so keep still, and mind what I tell you.... I’m off for Clamecy now by myself, and you must make the best of your way to Dornecy. When you get there, find Magistrate Nicole, our alderman. He thought it prudent to run, I know, but he is kind-hearted, even if he does love himself better than his neighbor, and there are things he prizes still more,--viz.: his goods and chattels, which are in the greatest peril, as you will not fail to tell him. “When you have seen him, push on to Sardy, to Master Courtignon, the Procurator; you’ll find him in his house with a pigeon-cote there; let him know that his mansion in Clamecy, with all it contains, will be burnt to the ground this very night, unless he comes back;--that will fetch him, I promise you! But I don’t need to give you lessons in lying, you young rascal! I’ll be bound you know well enough what to say to them.” “Oh! I don’t mind a lie or two, but the fact is, Master, I would rather not leave you alone.” “As if a snip like you would be of any protection! Seriously, Binet, the best thing you can do for me is to get help, so hurry off as fast as you can, and when you have done my errand, join me at the town.” “Old Courtignon and Nicole shall be brought back,” he cried, “if I have to drag them here by the hair of their heads; but just tell me one thing, Master,--what are we going to do with them when they get here?” “You will see,” said I with an air of profound mystery, though I knew myself no more than the babe unborn what was to be the outcome. The sun had set in a bank of red clouds, and the lovely summer evening was closing in when I got to the town about eight o’clock; but fine as it was, there was not a soul about; no guards and no loungers outside the market gate; so I walked boldly up the High Street, where the only living thing I met was a half-starved cat, which fled when it saw me. The houses, all tightly closed, turned blind eyes on the street, with doors and windows barred; and the only sound I heard was the echo of my own footsteps. “I am too late,” I said to myself, “they are all dead.” Just then I thought I heard a rustling behind the shutters, so I banged on the nearest door and shouted, “Let me in!” Getting no answer I tried another house and another, rattling the handles and knocking loudly with my stick, but not a door was opened. I could hear faint noises inside as if mice were stirring, and I understood that the miserable cowards were all hiding. This made me so angry that I cried out, “Denis Saulsoy, old man, if you don’t open the door, I’ll beat it down! It is I, Breugnon.”