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Now, as it happened, at Nice, when I was seeking a carriage, I entered one where were a lady and an elderly gentleman. At the first glance I recognised a "Milord Anglais," the lady was his daughter. At the same moment that I said to myself, "This carriage will never do for me," the lady addressed me, "Monsieur! ce voitoore est reservee a noos doox."
If I had gone to Frejus with them, I should have missed that little episode of the young married couple and that would have grieved me, and the reconciliation would not have been brought about before Marseilles. Oh, how grateful I was to fate, that the lady had said, "Monsieur! ce voitoore est reservee a noos doox."
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