"Waggons!" exclaimed Kéraban, with an accent impossible to describe.
"Yes, the carriages which run on the rails—"
"Rails? What horrible words are these?—and may I ask you what language you are speaking?"
"Only the language of modern travellers."
"Look here, nephew!" exclaimed Kéraban, who was getting excited, "do I look like a modern traveller? Do I look like a man who would permit himself to be dragged along in a 'waggon' by a machine? Is it likely that I should slide along 'rails, when I can drive on a road?"
"When time presses, uncle—"
"Ahmet, look me in the face, and listen to me. If there are no carriages, I will go in a cart. If there is no cart, I will ride; if I cannot get a horse, I will hire a donkey. If there are no donkeys, I will walk; and, when I cannot walk, I will crawl; and, when I can no longer crawl, I—"
"For goodness’ sake, stop!" cried Van Mitten.
"When I cannot crawl on hands and knees, I will drag myself along on my stomach," said Kéraban in conclusion—"yes, on my stomach!"
Then, seizing Ahmet by the arm, he said,—
"Did you ever hear that Mahomet took the train to go to Mecca?"
To this question there was obviously no answer; and Ahmet, who would have replied that, had railways existed in the time of Mahomet, he would no doubt have used them, thought it best to be silent: while Kéraban sat in his corner, grumbling, and condemning all words of a "railway" character.
However, if the chaise did not travel so rapidly as an express, it proceeded quickly. The horses went well upon the level road, and there was nothing to complain of. There was no want of relays. Ahmet, who, with his uncle's consent, had undertaken to pay the expenses, lavished "tips" freely on all concerned, with imperial generosity. Bank-notes flew out of his pocket, and he might have been starting a "paper chase" with rouble currency.
The result of all this liberality was that the travellers reached Koblewo the same day. Thence they turned more
