Crossword clues for postillion
The Collaborative International Dictionary
Postilion \Pos*til"ion\, n. [F. postillon, It. postiglione, fr. posta post. See Post a postman.] One who rides and guides the first pair of horses of a coach or post chaise; also, one who rides one of the horses when one pair only is used. [Written also postillion.]
Wiktionary
n. (alternative spelling of postilion English)
WordNet
n. someone who rides the near horse of a pair in order to guide the horses pulling a carriage (especially a carriage without a coachman) [syn: postilion]
Usage examples of "postillion".
Just then the marquis came in, saying he would give me my revenge and without answering I went downstairs as if to come back again, but I ran out of the inn, got into my carriage, and drove off, promising a good fee to the postillion if he would put his horses at a gallop.
No one thought of being astonished at my other postillion having remained behind, and we started at full speed.
I had been in the carriage for two or three minutes when the postillion came and asked me if we had much longer to wait.
Just as the postillion had got on horseback a servant came running up.
The rain, however, was falling, the wind, which was very high, blew in our faces, and, compelled to stay where she was, she said I would ruin her reputation, as the postillion could see everything.
I only did my duty, for how was I to imagine that your postillion had called you a messenger on his own responsibility.
However, I covered the postillion with my own pistol, threatening to fire if he did not drive on, and the robbers discharged their weapons at the carriage, not having enough spirit to shoot the postillion.
As I had only one postillion, I did not allow him to leave his horses for a moment.
I kissed her hands and told her that the postillion had certainly not seen anything, and that I was sure I had cured her of her dread of thunder, but that she was not likely to reveal the secret of my remedy.
In the warmth of her thanks, which lasted until her postillion and mine had righted the cabriolet, she often called me her saviour, her guardian angel.
He got out, telling us that the postillion had just gone into the inn to have a glass of beer and light his pipe.
I had a carriage and pair got ready, and told the postillion to drive to Uccellatoio, the first post on the Bologna road.
The postillion had caught him up at the fifth post, just before Amiens, and as he was already quite tired out the little man surrendered like a lamb.
But we had not gone two hundred paces when the postillion stopped, a bundle of linen whirled through the window into the carriage, and the governess got in.
I set out, and as soon as I had passed the Aix la Chapelle Gate, I told the postillion to stop and wait for me.