"'No such thing,' I replied, for at the moment I did not think it could be possible.
"There was but little time for reflection. Should I go on to the next large town, or should I stay? If I went on, I should get to my destination in the middle of the night, and, knowing nothing of the place, might have great difficulty in finding lodgings. If I stayed, I might get a train back or a carriage, or even find here a hotel of some kind where they would accommodate me until morning. I decided to remain, and off went the cars.
"One of the ticket-agents came forward from the office—as I supposed to offer his services: there were but few people about, but all understood my situation. As I said, the man came forward and bowed: 'Your fare, if you please.'
"I handed him my ticket: he stood before me and repeated, 'Your fare, if you please.'
"'I have given you my ticket,' said I, looking at him inquiringly.
"'This one is not for Liancourt: it is for Creil.'
"'I was going to Creil, only the train brought me past.'
"'Exactly, and you will please pay for the extra distance,' said he politely.
"It was too much. I had the misfortune of being carried out of my way, and this exasperating clerk was coolly asking me to pay the company a premium for the result of the conductor's carelessness. It was one of those situations in which words fail to express the extent of your indignation. The fellow's audacity verged on the sublime. He stood there with the calmness of a hero. And what did I do? Why, I paid him. But I tell you truly that I have hated that whole railroad company with the blackest hatred ever since. That was not all. As soon as he received the provoking money—I wish it had been red hot—he turned on his heel and walked into his office.
"But it was not the time to indulge in resentment: I must act promptly. The people there when I arrived were fast dispersing. I addressed myself to a half-grown boy who was standing near me: 'When does the next train go to Paris?' I thought I had better return and start afresh in the morning.