We will tell you that when you have opened the door, for we come from so far away that you would not believe it.
Open the door to you? indeed! we should not dare trust you. Let us see: are you from Saint-Sylvain de Pouligny?
We have been to Saint-Sylvain de Pouligny, but we have been farther than that.
Then you have been as far as Sainte-Solange?
We have been to Sainte-Solange, for sure; but we have been farther still.
You lie; you have never been as far as Sainte-Solange.
We have been farther, for we have just returned from Saint-Jacques de Compostelle.
What foolish tale are you telling us? We don’t know that parish. We see plainly enough that you are bad men, brigands, nobodies, liars. Go somewhere else and sing your silly songs; we are on our guard, and you won’t get in here.
Alas! my dear man, have pity on us! We are not pilgrims, as you have rightly guessed; but we are unfortunate poachers pursued by the keepers. The gendarmes are after us, too, and, if you don’t let us hide in your hay-loft, we shall be caught and taken to prison.
But what proof have we this time that you are what you say? for here is one falsehood already that you could not follow up.
If you will open the door, we will show you a fine piece of game we have killed.
Show it now, for we are suspicious.
Well, open a door or a window, so that we can pass in the creature.
Oh! nay, nay! not such fools! I’m looking at you through a little hole, and I see neither hunters nor game.
At that point, a drover’s boy, a thick-set youth of herculean strength, came forth from the group in which he had been standing unnoticed, and held up toward the window a goose all plucked and impaled on a stout iron spit, decorated with bunches of straw and ribbons.