Monsieur Sacripant had placed one paw on the step, to signify that he was tired and that they must take him inside. Monsieur Antoine alighted to seize him by the skin of his neck and toss him in on the floor of the wagon, for the poor beast no longer had enough spring in his legs to jump so high. Meanwhile Gilberte patted Corbeau's nose and passed her little hand through his black mane. Emile felt that his heart was beating as if a magnetic current conveyed her caresses to him. He was on the point of making some remark concerning Corbeau's happiness, as naïve as those Galuchet would have been likely to make on such an occasion; but he contented himself with being stupid silently. One is so happy when, having no lack of wit, he is conscious of an attack of such stupidity! It was quite dark when they reached Fresselines. The trees and rocks had become simply black masses, whence the solemn and majestic roar of the stream came forth. A delicious lassitude and the cool night air cast Emile and Gilberte into a sort of blissful drowsiness. They had before them the whole of the next day, a whole century of happiness. The inn at which they alighted, and which was the best in the village, had only two beds, in two different rooms. They decided that Gilberte should have the better room, and that Monsieur Antoine and Emile should share the other, each taking a mattress. But when they came to inspect the beds, they found that there was but one mattress to each, and Emile took a childish pleasure in the thought of sleeping on the straw in the barn. This arrangement, which threatened Charasson with a like fate, seemed sorely to displease the page of Châteaubrun. That young man liked his comfort, especially when he was travelling. Being accustomed to attend his master in all his journeys, he made amends for the austere régime of Janille at Châteaubrun by eating and sleeping to his heart's content when away from home. Monsieur Antoine, while making sport of him with a rough sort of gayety, overlooked all his whims and made himself his slave, talking to him as to a negro all the while. Thus, while Sylvain made a pretence of grooming the horse and harnessing him, it was always his master who handled the curry-comb and lifted the shafts. If the child fell asleep while driving, Antoine would rub his eyes, pick up the reins, and struggle against sleep rather than wake his page. If there were only one portion of meat at supper, Monsieur Antoine would say to Charasson, as he feasted his eyes on the appetizing dish: "You may share the bones with Monsieur Sacripant;" but the goodman would, almost unconsciously, gnaw the bones himself and leave the best piece for Sylvain. Thus the crafty urchin knew his master's ways, and the more he was threatened with having to go hungry and work and lose his sleep, the more surely he relied on his lucky star.