Now, if we are stopped, say nothing and all will be well." "Are you sure ?" "Leave me to arrange matters with these gentry." "What will you do if we are stopped ?" the doctor asked the architect.
"Faith! I shall follow the conductor's advice." "That's the best thing to do," observed the latter.
"Well, I shall keep quiet," repeated the architect.
"And so shall I," added the watchmaker.
"Come, gentlemen, take your seats, and let us make haste." The boy had listened to this conversation with frowning brow and clinched teeth.
"Well," he said to his mother, "if we are stopped, I know what I'll do." "What will you do ?" she asked.
"You'll see." "What does this little boy say ?" asked the watchmaker.
"I say you are all cowards," replied the child unhesitatingly.
"Edouard!" exclaimed his mother, "what do you mean ?" "I wish they'd stop the diligence, that I do!" cried the boy, his eye sparkling with determination.
"Come, come, gentlemen, in Heaven's name, take your places," called the conductor once more.
"Conductor," said the doctor, "I presume you have no weapons!" "Yes, I have my pistols." "Unfortunate!" The conductor stooped to the doctor's ear and whispered: "Don't be alarmed, doctor; they're only loaded with powder." "Good!" "Forward, postilion, forward!" shouted the conductor, closing the door of the interior.

Then, while the postilion snapped his whip and started the heavy vehicle, he also closed that of the coupe.
"Are you not coming with us, conductor ?" asked the lady.
"Thank you, no, Madame de Montrevel," replied the conductor; "I have something to do on the imperial." Then, looking into the window, he added: "Take care the Monsieur Edouard does not touch the pistols in the pocket of the carriage; he might hurt himself." "Pooh!" retorted the boy, "as if I didn't know how to handle a pistol.

I have handsomer ones than yours, that my friend Sir John had sent me from England; haven't I, mamma ?" "Never mind, Edouard," replied Madame de Montrevel, "I entreat you not to touch them." "Don't worry, little mother." Then he added softly, "All the same, if the Companions of Jehu stop us, I know what I shall do." The diligence was again rolling heavily on its way to Paris.
It was one of those fine winter days which makes those who think that nature is dead at that season admit that nature never dies but only sleeps.

The man who lives to be seventy or eighty years of age has his nights of ten or twelve hours, and often complains that the length of his nights adds to the shortness of his days.

Nature, which has an everlasting existence; trees, which live a thousand years; have sleeping periods of four or five months, which are winters for us but only nights for them.