Content
It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this time, after observing these operations.
"Show me!" said the traveller then, moving to the brow of the hill.
"To the Devil with all that!" interrupted the other, rolling his eye over the landscape. "_I_ go through no streets and past no fountains.
The wayfarer smoked his pipe out, put it in his breast, slipped off his great wooden shoes, and lay down on his back on the heap of stones.




