eplied the
commissary, heaving up both his shoulders--

--My good friend, quoth I--as sure as I am I--and you are you--

--And who are you? said he.--Don't puzzle me; said I.

Chapter 4.XV.

--But it is an indubitable verity, continued I, addressing myself to the
commissary, changing only the form of my asseveration--that I owe the
king of France nothing but my good will; for he is a very honest man,
and I wish him all health and pastime in the world--

Pardonnez moi--replied the commissary, you are indebted to him six
livres four sous, for the next post from hence to St. Fons, in your
route to Avignon--which being a post royal, you pay double for the
horses and postillion--otherwise 'twould have amounted to no more than
three livres two sous--

--But I don't go by land; said I.

--You may if you please; replied the commissary--

Your most obedient servant--said I, making him a low bow--

The commissary, with all the sincerity of grave good breeding--made me
one, as low again.--I never was more disconcerted with a bow in my life.

--The devil take the serious character of these people! quoth I--(aside)
they understand no more of Irony than this--

The comparison was standing close by with his panniers--but something
seal'd up my lips--I could not pronounce the name--

Sir, said I, collecting myself--it is not my intention to take post--

--But you may--said he, persisting in his first reply--you may take post
if you chuse--

--And I may take salt to my pickled herring, said I, if I chuse--

--But I do not chuse--

--But you must pay for it, whether you do or no.

Aye! for the salt; said I (I know)--

--And for the post too; added he. Defend me! cried I--

I travel by water--I am going down the Rhone this very afternoon--my
baggage is in the boat--and I have actually paid nine livres for my
passage--

C'est tout egal--'tis all one; said he.

Bon Dieu! what, pay for the way I go! and for the way I do not go!

--C'est tout egal; replied the commissary--

--The devil it is! said I--but I will go to ten thousand Bastiles
first--

O England! England! thou land of liberty, and climate of good sense,
thou tenderest of mothers--and gentlest of nurses, cried I, kneeling
upon one knee, as I was beginning my apostrophe.

When the director of Madam Le Blanc's conscience coming in at that
instant, and seeing a person in black, with a face as pale as ashes, at
his devotions--looking still paler by t