At last they reached his residence in the Rue Pigalle. He alighted first, offered his hand successively to his wife, Mademoiselle Marguerite, and Madame Leon, and motioned the coachman to drive away.
But the man did not stir. “Pardon—excuse me, monsieur,” he said, “but my employers bade—requested me——”
“What?”
“To ask you—you know, for the fare—thirty-five francs—not counting the little gratuity.”
“Very well!—I will pay you to-morrow.”
“Excuse me, monsieur; but if it is all the same to you, would you do so this evening? My employer said that the bill had been standing a long time already.”
“What, scoundrel!”
But Madame de Fondege, who was on the point of entering the house, suddenly stepped back, and drawing out her pocketbook, exclaimed: “That’s enough! Here are thirty-five francs.”
The man went to his carriage lamp to count the money, and seeing that he had the exact amount—“And my gratuity?” he asked.
“I give none to insolent people,” replied the General.