`Monseigneur, I looked at the man.'

He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage.

`Mat man, pig? And why look there?'

`Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the chain of the shoe the drag.'

`May the Devil carry away these idiots! How do you call the man? You know all the men of this part of the country. Who was he?'

`Your clemency, Monseigneur! He was not of this part of the country. Of all the days of my life, I never saw him.'

`Swinging by the chain? To be suffocated?'

`With your gracious permission, that was the wonder of it, Monseigneur. His head hanging over--like this!'