Then, despairing, with a shrug and an inarticulate mutter, he flung past the Parisian, obeying him as the cur obeys, with pendant tail and teeth-revealing snarl.
Garnache closed the door upon him with a bang, and smiled quietly as he turned to Valerie.
"I think we have won through, mademoiselle," said he, with pardonable vanity.

"The rest is easy, though you may be subjected to some slight discomfort between this and Grenoble." She smiled back at him, a pale, timid smile, like a gleam of sunshine from a wintry sky.

"That matters nothing," she assured him, and strove to make her voice sound brave.
There was need for speed, and compliments were set aside by Garnache, who, at his best, was not felicitous with them.

Valerie felt herself caught by the wrist, a trifle roughly she remembered afterwards, and hurried across the cobbles to the tethered horses, with which Rabecque was already busy.

She saw Garnache raise his foot to the stirrup and hoist himself to the saddle.