Just as she turned into the Rue de l’Echelle she heard some one calling after her:
“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Fifi!”
It was Angéline, very red in the face, and running after the fiacre. Fifi had it stopped and Angéline clambered in. Before she had a chance to begin the fault-finding which is the privilege of an old servant Fifi cut the ground from under her feet.
“Why did you desert me as you did, Angéline?” cried Fifi indignantly. “You saw me swept off my feet, and carried along with the crowd, and instead of following me—”
“I did not see you, Mademoiselle—it was you—”
“You left me to my fate! What might not have happened to me alone in the streets of Paris!”
“Mademoiselle has perhaps been alone in the streets of Paris before—”
“Silence, Angéline! How dare you say that I have been alone in the streets of Paris before! Your language, as well as your conduct, is intolerable!”
“I beg Mademoiselle to remember—”
“I remember nothing but that, being sent out in your charge, you basely deserted me, and you shall answer for it; I beg of you to remember that.”