THE GRAVE-DIGGER.
Osier _arcelets_ are not very strong. You are making sport of us, good
people, and you would do better to open the door to us. We can see the
gleam of a noble blaze within your house; doubtless the spit is in
place, and your hearts and your stomachs are rejoicing together. Open,
then, to poor pilgrims, who will die at your door if you do not have
mercy on them.
THE HEMP-BEATER.
Aha! you are pilgrims? you did not tell us that. From what pilgrimage
are you returning, by your leave?
THE GRAVE-DIGGER.
We will tell you that when you have opened the door, for we come from so
far away that you would not believe it.
THE HEMP-BEATER.
Open the door to you? indeed! we should not dare trust you. Let us see:
are you from Saint-Sylvain de Pouligny?
THE GRAVE-DIGGER.
We have been to Saint-Sylvain de Pouligny, but we have been farther than
that.
THE HEMP-BEATER.
Then you have been as far as Sainte-Solange?
THE GRAVE-DIGGER.
We have been to Sainte-Solange, for sure; but we have been farther
still.
THE HEMP-BEATER.
You lie; you have never been as far as Sainte-Solange.
THE GRAVE-DIGGER.
We have been farther, for we have just returned from Saint-Jacques de
Compostelle.
THE HEMP-BEATER.
What foolish tale are you telling us? We don't know that parish.
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