They had followed their guide for about a quarter of a mile, when an empty hackney-coach passed. The man stopped it, saying, “Perhaps, sir, the lady will be tired if she walks all the way; had you not better take this hackney-coach? I will get up on the box, and direct the driver.”
“Why, you said it was only two steps,” urged Mr. de Malassise.
“Oh, it is not far,” replied the man.
“Yes, yes, let us have the coach; I can’t walk any more,” exclaimed Eusèbe.
So of course they got into the hackney-coach, while the man who had the horse to sell seated himself beside the coachman. On they went, right out of Paris, into the narrow streets of a suburb inhabited by very poor people. On they went still, while the houses became more scattered, and the roads were so bad that the horses could hardly get along.
At last the coachman pulled up, and taking out his pipe, he began to light it, as he said, “I won’t go no further; the patience of a hackney-coachman has its limits, these roads ain’t fit for any carriage, and the sun’s hot enough to kill a camel of the desert, much more horses like mine.”
“THE HORSES COULD HARDLY GET ALONG.”
Mr. de Malassise had lost patience also, and called out to their guide in an angry voice, “Now, my man, tell me at once, where are you leading us to?”
“My noble gentleman,” the man replied, “do not be angry; I did not think it was so far, but you can see the house now; and, if the lady will get down from the carriage, we can reach it on foot in two minutes.”