Then a dastardly idea insinuated itself into my mind. I had my return-ticket in my waistcoat-pocket:--what if I slipped away presently to the station and went back to Paris by the next train, leaving my clever friend to improvise his way out of his own scrape as best he could?
In the meanwhile, as I was rowing with the stream, we soon got back to Courbevoie.
"Are you mad?" I said, as, having landed the ladies, Müller and I delivered up the boat to its owner.
"Didn't I admit it, two or three hours ago?" he replied. "I wonder you don't get tired, mon cher, of asking the same question so often."
"Four francs, fifty centimes, Messieurs," said the boatman, having made fast his boat to the landing-place.
"Four francs, fifty centimes!" I echoed, in dismay.
Even Müller looked aghast.
"My good fellow," he said, "do you take us for coiners?"
"Hire of boat, two francs the hour. These gentlemen have been out nearly one hour and a half--three francs. Hire of bait and fishing-tackle, one franc fifty. Total, four francs and a half," replied the boatman, putting out a great brown palm.
Müller, who was acting as cashier and paymaster, pulled out his purse, deposited one solitary half-franc in the middle of that brown palm, and suggested that the boatman and he should toss up for the remaining four francs--or race for them--or play for them--or fight for them. The boatman, however, indignantly rejected each successive proposal, and, being paid at last, retired with a decrescendo of oaths.