"That's nothing; turn your face toward the sky, and I'll answer for it that the rain will very soon wash off the mud that covers your eyes." "You are right, my dear friend; I am well washed now, and I begin to see more distinctly. Ah! I breathe again!" "Are you really hurt?" "Wait till I feel myself; I'm sore all over, but I believe that I haven't any serious wound." "That's very fortunate!" "Ah! my friend! what a terrible accident!" "Whose fault is it?" "Look you--I lashed the horse, because you were in a hurry to get there." "I advise you to put your crazy performances on my back!" "Here we are in a pretty plight! and the rain coming down in sheets! It seems as if everything was in a conspiracy against us. Look! I even smashed my hat when I fell." "Parbleu! what do I care for your hat!" "Look you, perhaps you care for my head, which is entirely unprotected. I am wet through, covered with mud, battered and crushed. What a cold I shall have! And my clothes! It was well worth while to dress! Open-work stockings; and see, there's my shirt frill on that pole. Mon Dieu! it wouldn't take much to knock me over!" "Come, come, Raymond! damnation! be a man! You're worse than a baby. We must get out of this somehow." "Where's our groom?" "I'm afraid the poor devil hurt himself when he jumped down, and I should be very much at a loss to know where to look for him." "If we could raise the carriage!" "But one wheel came off when it went over." "The devil himself took a hand in the job." "I'm afraid the horse has hurt himself on these poles.--This pleasure party is like to cost us dear, neighbor." "Oh! you're very lucky to be able to take it so calmly! For my part, I am crushed and furious at the same time!" "Come with me; let's try to find a house, some place of shelter at least; but let us notice carefully what direction we take. Are you coming?" "Wait a minute, till I make a cap of my handkerchief, to protect me a little." We left the vineyard. I was obliged to take Raymond by the arm to get him to move along; he was trembling so that he was afraid of falling at every step. We walked for some ten minutes, constantly floundering in holes filled with water, which it was too dark for us to see. I swore and Raymond whined, anticipating an attack of pneumonia. At last we discovered a little cottage, and the light that shone through the windows indicated that the occupants were not in bed; for peasants are not in the habit of keeping candles lighted while they are asleep. "We are saved!" cried Raymond; and he recovered the use of his legs to run toward the house. But I held him back, fearing that he would announce our presence in such a way as to prevent our being admitted. I myself knocked at the door of the cottage.