"In that case, come with us; I’ll lend you a mare that has a very gentle trot."
"That’s the thing; and I’ll make her gallop all the time. By the way, my friends, another word before we go: do me a favor."
"What is it?"
"After this, don’t call me Robineau any more, but call me by my Christian name—Jules; that is more distingué, it has a pleasanter sound."
"I will call you Monsieur le Marquis Jules, if you choose," laughed Edouard.
"As for me," said Alfred, "I shall call you whatever comes into my head."
"Try to let nothing come into it but Jules, I entreat you."
They returned to Alfred’s house, on foot this time, because, despite Robineau’s entreaties, the two friends did not care to crowd themselves into his cabriolet again. The nouveau riche decided therefore to dismiss his carriage, and accompanied his friends on foot; but on the way he assumed airs and graces which caused his companions much amusement. He did not deign to glance at the multitude, he refused to turn aside for anyone, for in his opinion everybody should have been eager to give way to him. But such was not the case; and as his impertinent air did not prepossess people in his favor, they did not make way for him; some even ventured to jostle him, and he received more than one blow for persisting in blocking the path.
"It’s very foolish to go on foot when you have a carriage!" he exclaimed; while Alfred and Edouard observed in an undertone:
"There’s something more foolish than that."