THE HUMORS OF A LADY-MILLIONNAIRE
While Clary and her governess rode to Marseilles at a late hour, Madame Caraman was devoured with curiosity; but she was, nevertheless, sensible enough not to ask any question of her stubborn ward. When, however, the young girl spurred the horses continually on the governess felt uneasy; she had, besides, often the sensibility of a hen who has to bring up a young duck, and therefore she ventured to make slight objections against the uncommon maddening speed which, owing to her heavy size, became every moment more troublesome to her.
"Clary, at this hour to ride to Marseilles! What would Lord Ellis say to it? I have undertaken a sacred cause, and—"
"Do not trouble yourself, Mamma Caraman. I shall answer for all."
"Also when we break our necks?"
"Even then."
The governess was silent, not because she felt convinced, but owing to the want of breath. By degrees she got used to her present situation, and one does not read Alexandre Dumas in vain. Could there be anything more romantic than this night trip? The moon lighted up trees and shrubs with a fine white light, and they thus appeared as spectres, who in a maddening quick fear fly along.
"It is a great pity that he of blessed memory cannot behold me thus," muttered Madame Caraman to herself; "he would, no doubt, have rejoiced over me."
Now the town was reached, and Clary adopted a more moderate pace, while she and her companion turned into Troailles Street. Before a palace-like house a halt was made, and through Madame Caraman's head passed suddenly a correct supposition.
"Ah, we intend then to pay a visit to the firm of Mortimer & Co.," said she, with surprise; "a strange hour, and the bank will probably not be open yet."