Making a spurt, he reached the untenanted footboard, and hung on behind for an instant. But the thought struck him that he was in the menial's place behind Andrea's carriage, and he muttered:
"No! it shall not be said that I did not fight it out to the last. My legs are tired, but not my arms."
Seizing the edge of the footboard with both hands, the inflexible youth swung his feet up under the body of the coach so as to get them on the foresprings; thus suspended, he was carried on, spite of the jerking, over the wretched rutty road. He stuck to the desperate situation by strength of arm, rather than capitulate with his conscience.
"I shall learn her address," he thought. "It will be another wakeful night; but to-morrow I shall have repose, seated while I am copying music. I have a trifle of money, too, and I will take a little rest."
He reflected that Paris was very large and that he might be lost after seeing the baron to his house. Happily it was near midnight, and dawn came at half after three.
As he was pondering he remarked that they crossed an open place where stood an equestrian statue in the midst.
"Victories Place," he thought gleefully; "I know it."
The vehicle turning partly round and Andrea put her head out to see the statue.
"The late king," explained her brother. "We are pretty nearly there now."