Poor Goualeuse felt her cheeks flush and her heart beat as she timidly descended from the vehicle.
"Good day, good day, Madame Georges," said Rodolph, advancing towards the individual so addressed, "you see I am punctual." Then turning to the driver, and putting money into his hand, he said, "Here, my friend, there is no further occasion to detain you; you may return to Paris as soon as you please."
The coachman, a little, short, square-built man, with his hat over his eyes, and his countenance almost entirely concealed by the high collar of his driving-coat, pocketed the money without a word, remounted his seat, gave his horses the whip, and disappeared down the allée verte by which he had entered.
Fleur-de-Marie sprang to the side of Rodolph, and with an air of unfeigned alarm, almost amounting to distress, said, in a tone so low as not to be overheard by Madame Georges:
"M. Rodolph! M. Rodolph! pray do not be angry, but why have you sent away the carriage? Will it not return to fetch us away?"
"Of course not; I have quite done with the man, and therefore dismissed him."
"But the ogress!"
"What of her? Why do you mention her name?"
"Alas! alas! because I must return to her this evening; indeed, indeed, I must, or—or she will consider me a thief. The very clothes I have on are hers, and, besides, I owe her—"
"Make yourself quite easy, my dear child; it is my part to ask your forgiveness, not you mine."