Ninny Moulin went to the window, opened it, and said to Rose-Pompon, who ran up to it, “Look there! before the door of the house.”
“What a pretty carriage! How comfortable a body’d be inside of it!”
“That carriage is yours. It is waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me!” exclaimed Rose-Pompon; “am I to decide as short as that?”
“Or not at all.”
“To-day?”
“On the instant.”
“But where will they take me?”
“How should I know?”
“You do not know where they will take me?”