28 GOLDEN DAYS 



I think I must really have fallen asleep. 

 I was roused again to consciousness by the 

 excited accents of my friend the Mayor : 

 Impossible ! Lme mouche aujourcCliui ? 

 A whip cracked in the darkness. . . . 

 Im-pos-sible ! Then came to me the voice 

 of the Greffier : Et nous done ! Pourquoi 

 diable navions-nous pas appoi^te des asti- 

 cots ? I was still heavy with sleep, and 

 could not for the moment get the meaning 

 of that last sentence. I closed my eyes 

 again — astieots — astieots ! What was that 

 word ? Then like a flash its meaning 

 was recalled — Of course, maggots ! The 

 remark that the Greffier had made was : 

 " Why did we not, too, bring maggots ?" 



The Mayor looked quickly over his 

 shoulder. " Monsieur is still sleeping?" he 

 remarked sententiously. So Monsieur 

 slept on as a child sleeps, smiling, till it 

 became necessary to sit up and yawn 

 noisily. ^Ve had passed on to the cobbles, 

 and the horses' hoofs were waking the 

 echoes in the village square. At the 

 front of the inn we pulled up. The door 

 opened, and there was Anastasie, a 

 flickering candle held high to greet us. 



