Just as I was ordering post-horses to take us to Frejus, a man appeared, and told me I owed him ten louis for the storage of a carriage which I had left on his hands nearly three years ago. This was when I was taking Rosalie to Italy. I laughed, for the carriage itself was not worth five louis. “Friend,” said I, “I make you a present of the article.”
“I don’t want your present. I want the ten louis you owe me.”
“You won’t get the ten louis. I will see you further first.”
“We will see about that;” and so saying he took his departure.
I sent for horses that we might continue our journey.
A few moments after, a sergeant summoned me to the governor’s presence. I followed him, and was politely requested to pay the ten louis that my creditor demanded. I answered that, in the agreement I had entered into for six francs a month, there was no mention of the length of the term, and that I did not want to withdraw my carriage.
“But supposing you were never to withdraw it?”
“Then the man could bequeath his claim to his heir.”
“I believe he could oblige you to withdraw it, or to allow it to be sold to defray expenses.”
“You are right, sir, and I wish to spare him that trouble. I make him a present of the carriage.”