“Josephine Lollier! Why, she’s the daughter of the man who keeps the post-horses at Belleville.”
“Exactly.”
“Damn it!” exclaimed the postilion, “you’re not to be pitied—a pretty slip of a girl! To the health of beautiful Josephine Lollier.”
And he swallowed his fifth glass of Burgundy.
“Now,” asked Montbar, “do you understand why I had you sent up here, my lad?”
“No; but I don’t bear you any grudge for it, all the same.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Oh! I’m a pretty good devil.”
“Well, I’ll tell you why I sent for you.”
“I’m all ears.”