“I am in.”
“Where are we going, bourgeois?”
“Follow that carriage just ahead of us, and you shall have a good pourboire.”
The rascal did not need it; I saw that he was already tipsy. I wished then that I had taken another, but it was too late to change. He lashed his emaciated horse with all his strength; the infernal beast broke into a gallop of desperation, and sometimes outstripped the private carriage.
“Look out!” I said to my driver; “don’t whip it so hard; let’s not have an accident.”
“Don’t you be afraid, bourgeois, I know my business; you see, I haven’t been driving a cab twenty years without finding out what driving means. You’re with some friends in the green fiacre yonder; very good! I propose to have you get there ahead of ’em.”
“But I did not tell you that I was with anybody; I want you to follow that carriage; if you pass it, how can you follow it?”
“I tell you, bourgeois, that they’re a-following us; I’ll show ’em that my horse is worth two of theirs. When Belotte’s waked up, there’s no stopping her.”
“Morbleu! you go too fast! We have passed the carriage; where is it now?”
“Ah! they’re trying to catch up with us; but the coachman’s mad. I’m driving you all right, bourgeois.”