"Ma foi, you are right," said Van Mitten. "There are at least a hundred thousand ducks."
"A hundred thousand!" exclaimed Kéraban. "If you had said two hundred thousand now!"
"Oh, two hundred thousand!"
"I should even say three hundred thousand, Van Mitten, and then I should be in no way exaggerating."
"You are right, Seigneur Kéraban," replied the Dutchman, prudently, for he did not wish to excite his companion to throw a million wild ducks at his head. But he was right: a hundred thousand ducks is an immense flight, but there were certainly no fewer in that extensive cloud of birds which threw such an immense shadow on the waters of the bay. The weather was very fine, and the road was fairly passable for carriages. The horses proceeded rapidly, and there were no delays at the relays. They no longer had Seigneur Saffar in front of them.
We need hardly say that when night came on they passed it still rapidly on the journey towards the first slopes of the Caucasus, which appeared in the distant horizon. Since the night had been passed at the hotel at Kertsch, no one had even thought of quitting the chaise for six-and-thirty hours.
However, towards evening, at supper-time, the travellers stopped at one of the post-houses, which was also an inn. They did not know what the resources of the Caucasus were, and whether food was easily procurable there. So they thought it prudent to economize the provisions taken in at Kertsch.
The inn was of second-class quality, but there was an abundance of food. So they had nothing to complain of on that score. Only the hotel-keeper, perhaps out of his natural distrust, or according to the custom of the country, wished them to pay for everything as soon as they had had it. So when he brought the bread he said,—
"This is ten kopecks."
Ahmet gave him the money.
Then he came in with some eggs.
"These are eighty kopecks,” he said. And Ahmet paid the eighty kopecks demanded.
