Max Pemberton

“ Any other man but Pepin would have been lost beyond hope in this labyrinth; but the guide knew the forest as he knew his own face. The very darkness of the way inspired him. He turned gaily from the path he had struck at the first, and riding as it were straight towards a gloomy bog whose shallow waters caught a leaden glow of the moon's beams, he encouraged the bewildered Abbé to new efforts.
"Well done, monsieur, well done," he cried; "a half a league ridden like that and you shall smack your lips over a wine-cup. ”

“ And still thinking upon it, he plunged into the darkness of the copse.
"Oh blessed Thaddeus, Linus, Cletus, Clement, Xystus, Cornelius, pray for me this night!" murmured the Abbé, while his mule stumbled in the dark place, and the hoofs of the beast squelched in the mud of the bog. "Merciful Heaven, that I should have left my bed for this!"
"Aye, that's it," chimed in Pepin, "if we had not left our beds! God knows where we shall next stretch ourselves in yonder bog, perchance, if your saints are sleeping. And we shall have company too, my father. Did you hear that cry? ”

“ Mother of God, I know an honest fellow not half a league from here who will answer to our knock with a bed of moss and a cup of wine which a prince bishop might drink. Courage, monsieur, courage! You are at the end of your troubles. ”