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The cocher received the order with a grumble, looked from his unreliable horse to the frosty roadway, and was about to shake his head in definite negation when Max cajoled him with a more ingratiating voice. "The rue Ronsard, then? Will you take me to the corner of the rue Ronsard?"
It was, then, not an ill-pleased Lanyard who slipped oft into the night and the rain; but his exasperation was elaborate when the first object that met his gaze was that wretched fiacre, back in place before the door, Lucia Bannon leaning from its lowered window, the cocher on his box brandishing an importunate whip at the adventurer.
Several empty cabs had gone by during the peroration of the law, and no more seemed to offer themselves. After some minutes, however, one appeared and was duly hailed. "Quelle?" demanded the cocher angrily. And when he was told "Of course, I know, why not?" We got in; I being directed to sit in the middle, and my two bags and fur coat piled on top of us all.
"And if I don't want them myself, I might send them to my mother," Virginia replied, a quiver in her laugh at her own little joke. He had put her in her cab; he had tried to tell her how much he thanked her; they had said good-bye and the cocher had cracked his whip when he came running after her. "Why, Young Lady," he called out, "we don't know each other's names." She laughed and gave hers.
Long afterwards, in the same city, I saw a man sitting calmly in a fiacre, a man of the "gentlemanly" class, and ordering the cocher to drive on, although a woman was clinging to the side of the carriage and refusing to let go. She was a strong, splendid creature of the peasant type, bareheaded, with a fine open brow, and she was obviously consumed by resentment of some injustice mad with it.
As a dispenser of unspeakable profanity, the Paris cocher has no equal. He is unique, no one can approach him. He also enjoys the reputation of being the worst driver in the world.
He carried his articles up from the curb, while the cocher grinned and winked behind, and taking his turn in the throng of widows, orphans, ouvriers, and profligates and unfortunates of all loose conditions, Simp was a subject of much unenviable remark.
But I'll direct the cocher very carefully to the Gare du Nord. Please don't even tip him that's my affair. No not another word of thanks; to have been permitted to be of service it is a unique pleasure, Miss Bannon. And so, good night!" With an effect that seemed little less than timid, the girl offered her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Lanyard," she said in an unsteady voice. "I am sorry "
They covered its nakedness with velvet, and the cocher, having taken a cigar from his pocket, and looking much as if he would like to smoke, put it back again sadly, cracked his whip, and the cortege went on.
The cocher leaned forward for instructions. His fare hesitated for a moment, swayed by a momentary indecision. "Attendre" he said finally. The driver adjusted his register and settled back to wait. Then Chase mounted the steps and lifted the knocker with trembling fingers. He was dizzy with eagerness, cold with uncertainty.
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