"Don't send him away, captain," said Saccage, who seemed the more judicious member of the council; "it's of no use for us to have anything more to do with that Spanish lunatic and that gypsy scum. It is quite unnecessary to send this sharp young messenger to say that you are going on. They would follow us and would simply embarrass us and burn and rob all around us. Do what your wife told you. Stay here till midnight, and then you will arrive long before daybreak, for it's only two leagues from here to Briantes. So don't let this little fellow go. I'll throw him out of the window, if you choose; that will prevent his running." "No! no unnecessary severity," bleated the captain in falsetto. "I have become a humane and gentle man since I have had a tender-hearted spouse. Is the house properly guarded?" "A fly could not get in without my permission." "Then let us sup in peace, as soon as my Proserpine arrives. Have you given orders?" "Yes; but in spite of Madame Proserpine's fine promises about the comforts of this inn, we shall sup but poorly here, I am afraid. The wonderful cook of whom she said so much is in bed, at the point of death, and the woman is losing her wits. The servant is a traitor whom we have to watch, and the maid is a frightened old fool who breaks everything she touches and doesn't forward matters." "That's because you speak harshly to them, my friend! You always have insults and threats on your lips! Ten thousand devils! as my wife has often told you, you lack tact. Where is this damned hostess? summon her, and let me restore courage to her belly with a cuff or two!" Walking heavily to the stairs, he called Madame Pignoux, heaping the coarsest epithets upon her, apparently to set his lieutenant an example of mildness and courtesy. This whole conversation was carried on in French. Macabre, who was of German descent, was born at Bourges and had passed his early youth in Berry. Except for a somewhat extended vocabulary for use in his military capacity, he spoke the language of his fathers with difficulty and without pleasure. The Italian Saccage murdered French with more facility than German. Thus they had difficulty in understanding each other when they spoke the latter tongue, and moreover they considered themselves so entirely masters of the situation that they scorned to take any precautions before Mario and the people of the house. Mario, who had taken a great risk when he tried to make the _reitres_ retrace their steps, and who was likely to be contradicted at any moment by some genuine messenger from Sancho or La Flèche, realized that it would be too audacious for him to insist for the moment. He feigned indifference and preoccupation as he laid the table, but did not lose a word of what the two adventurers said to each other.