This sally was followed by a roar of laughter, and Leander, beside himself with rage, half rose, to throw himself upon Scopin, and chastise him then and there for his insufferable impertinence; but he was so stiff and sore from his own beating, and the pain in his back, which was striped like a zebra’s, was so excruciating, that he sank back into his place with a suppressed groan, and concluded to postpone his revenge to some more convenient season.  Herode and Blazius, who were accustomed to settle such little disputes, insisted upon their making up their differences, and a sort of reconciliation took place-Scapin promising never to allude to the subject again, but managing to give poor Leander one or two more digs that made him wince even as he did so.

During this absurd altercation the chariot had been making steady progress, and soon arrived at an open space where another great post-road crossed the one they were following, at right angles.  A large wooden crucifix, much the worse for long exposure to the weather, had been erected upon a grassy mound at the intersection of the two highways.  A group, consisting of two men and three mules, stood at its foot, apparently awaiting some one’s arrival.  As they approached, one of the mules, as if weary of standing still, impatiently shook its head, which was gaily decorated with bright, many-coloured tufts and tassels, and set all the little silver bells about it ringing sharply.  Although a pair of leather blinkers, decked with gay embroidery, effectually prevented its seeing to the right or to the left, it evidently was aware of the approach of the chariot before the men’s senses had given them any intimation of it.

“The Colonelle shakes her ear-trumpets and shows her teeth,” said one of them; “they cannot be far off now.”

In effect, after a very few minutes the chariot was seen approaching, and presently rolled into the open space.  Zerbine, who sat in front, glanced composedly at the little group of men and mules standing there, without betraying any surprise at seeing them.

“By Jove! those are fine beasts yonder,” exclaimed the tyrant, “splendid Spanish mules, especially that foremost one; they can easily do their fifteen or twenty leagues a day, I’ll venture, and if we were mounted on the like we should soon find ourselves in Paris.  But what the devil are they doing in this lonely place? it must be a relay, waiting for some rich seignior travelling this way.”

“No,” said the duenna, “that foremost mule is intended for a lady—­don’t you see the cushions and housings?”

“In that case,” he replied, “there must be an abduction in the wind; those two equerries, in gray liveries, certainly have a very mysterious, knowing sort of an air.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Zerbine, demurely, with a significant little smile and shrug.

“Can it be possible that the lady is among us?” asked Scapin; “one of the men is coming this way by himself, as if he desired to parley before resorting to violence.”