“If it please, madame,” he said, “there is a man sitting in your carriage, and he won’t get out!”
A man sitting in her carriage! It was like a pagan mounting the steps of an altar!
Sarah hastened outside. Sure enough, there was her carriage, and there was a man in it. One look at his mass of hair and Sarah realised who he was.
It was Rostand!
“Throw him out!” commanded Sarah, while we stood by aghast at this sacrilege committed by an unknown poet.
Then Rostand to my amazement found his voice. He stood up in the carriage and bowed to Sarah.
“I don’t wish to have to knock your coachman down a second time,” he said, “so, madame, it will save time if I explain that I am going to ride home with you!”
“You are going to ride home with me!” said Sarah. For once even her ready wit had forsaken her.
“I came here to read you a poem, and I am going to read it!” continued Rostand firmly.
Sarah burst out laughing.