"I'd like to know if your master, Monsieur Cha—Chabouleau puts on airs and eyes country folks like that crow that just went out; because if he does, why, I wouldn't give him any business of mine, d'ye see."
"No, monsieur, no; never fear. Monsieur Chamoureau is too well-bred not to be polite to everybody, especially his clients. He'd take off his hat to a child two years old, if the child should give him his business."
"All right! but seemin' to me your bourgeois is staying out a long while."
"In Paris, monsieur, one can never be sure how long it will take to do an errand."
"That's so; because there's so many carriages passing—that delays you. Well, here it is raining now!"
"And monsieur didn't bring his umbrella."
"They told me nobody used umbrellas in Paris now, as there's so many busses that folks never walk."
"That's an exaggeration, monsieur; people still go on foot when they prefer to walk."
"They told me that there's going to be a railroad underneath Paris, so's you can take the underground and go quicker when there's too many people on top. That ain't a bad idea.—But, sapristi! the bourgeois don't seem to come back."
Twenty minutes more had passed, when there was a great uproar in the street; hoots and shouts of laughter, and yells from the street urchins. The servant opened a window on that side to ascertain the cause of the tumult.