“So, citizen,” said a stout gentleman against whom a tall woman, very thin and haggard, was crowding in her terror. “You say that the robbery took place on the very road by which we have just come?” “Yes, citizen, between Lambesc and Pont-Royal. Did you notice the spot where the road ascends between two high banks? There are a great many rocks there.” “Yes, yes, my friend,” said the wife, pressing her husband’s arm, “I noticed it; I even said, as you must remember, ‘Here is a bad place; I would rather pass here by day than at night.’” “Oh! madame,” said a young man whose voice affected to slur his r’s after the fashion of the day, and who probably assumed to lead the conversation at the table d’hôte, on ordinary occasions, “you know the Companions of Jehu know no day or night.” “What! citizen,” asked the lady still more alarmed, “were you attacked in broad daylight?” “In broad daylight, citizeness, at ten o’clock in the morning.” “And how many were there?” asked the stout gentleman. “Four, citizen.” “Ambushed beside the road?” “No; they were on horseback, armed to the teeth and masked.” “That’s their custom,” said the young frequenter of the table d’hôte, “and they said, did they not: ‘Do not defend yourself, we will not harm you. We only want the government money.’” “Word for word, citizen.” “Then,” continued this well-informed young man, “two dismounted from their horses, flinging their bridles to their comrades, and commanded the conductor to deliver up the money.” “Citizen,” said the stout man astonished, “you describe the thing as if you had seen it.” “Monsieur was there, perhaps,” said one of the travellers, half in jest, half in earnest. “I do not know, citizen, whether in saying that you intend a rudeness,” carelessly observed the young man who had so pertinently and obligingly come to the narrator’s assistance, “but my political opinions are such that I do not consider your suspicion an insult. Had I had the misfortune to be among those attacked, or the honor to be one of those who made the attack, I should admit it as frankly in the one case as in the other. But yesterday at ten o’clock, at precisely the moment when the diligence was stopped, twelve miles from here, I was breakfasting quietly in this very seat. And, by-the-bye, with the two citizens who now do me the honor to sit beside me.” “And,” asked the younger of the two travellers who had lately joined the table, whom his companion called Roland, “how many men were you in the diligence?” “Let me think; we were--yes, that’s it--we were seven men and three women.” “Seven men, not including the conductor?” repeated Roland. “Yes.” “And you seven men allowed yourselves to be plundered by four brigands? I congratulate you, gentlemen.” “We knew with whom we had to deal,” replied the wine merchant, “and we took good care not to defend ourselves.” “What! with whom you had to deal?” retorted the young man. “Why, it seems to me, with thieves and bandits.”