“Ma foi! gentlemen,” said a dry old lady from the corner of the carriage, “these were not very remarkable characters, after all. I remember coming down here with—what do you think?—for my fellow-traveller. Only guess. But it is no use; you would never hit upon it,—he was a baboon!”
“A baboon!” exclaimed all the party, in a breath.
“Sacrebleu! Madame, you must be jesting.”
“No, gentlemen, nothing of the kind. He was a tall fellow, as big as M. le Capitaine yonder; and he had a tail—mon Dieu! what a tail! When the conductor showed him into the carriage, it took nearly a minute to adjust that enormous tail.”
A very general roar of laughter met this speech, excited probably more by the serious manner of the old lady as she mentioned this occurrence than by anything even in the event itself, though all were unquestionably astonished to account for the incident.
“Was he quiet, Madame?” said one of the passengers.
“Perfectly so,” replied she,—“bien poli.”
Another little outbreak of laughter at so singular a phrase, with reference to the manners of an ape, disturbed the party.
“He had probably made his escape from the Jardin des Plantes,” cried a thin old gentleman opposite.
“No, Monsieur; he lived in the Rue St. Denis.”