At sight of them, I swung round and gripped my henchman by the shoulder.
"A fine trusty servant thou!" I cried.

"Boaster! Had you told us that age and fat living had so stunted your wits as to have extinguished memory, I had taken a guide at Montauban to show us the way.

Yet, here, with the sun and the Pyrenees to guide you, even had you no other knowledge, you lose yourself!" "Monseigneur," he whimpered, "I was choosing my way by the sun and the mountains, and it was thus that I came to this impasse.

For you may see, yourself, that the road ends here abruptly." "Ganymede," said I slowly, "when we return to Paris--if you do not die of fright 'twixt this and then--I'll find a place for you in the kitchens.

God send you may make a better scullion than a follower!" Then, vaulting over the wall, "Attend me, some half-dozen of you," I commanded, and stepped out briskly towards the barn.
As the weather-beaten old door creaked upon its rusty hinges, we were greeted by a groan from within, and with it the soft rustle of straw that is being moved.