“Passengers for Rouen, take your seats, please!” a guard cried, and they got in.  There was a slight whistle, followed by a loud whistle, from the engine, which noisily puffed out its first jet of steam, while the wheels began to turn a little, with a visible effort, and Rivet left the station and went to the gate by the side of the line to get another look at Rosa, and as the carriage full of human merchandise passed him, he began to crack his whip and to jump, while he sang at the top of his voice: 

    “How I regret
      My dimpled arms,
    My well-made legs,
      And my vanished charms.”

And then he watched a white pocket-handkerchief, which somebody was waving, as it disappeared in the distance.

PART III

They slept the peaceful sleep of a quiet conscience, until they got to Rouen, and when they returned to the house, refreshed and rested, Madame could not help saying: 

“It was all very well, but I was already longing to get home.”

They hurried over their supper, and then, when they had put on their usual light evening costume, waited for their usual customers, and the little colored lamp outside the door told the passers-by that the flock had returned to the fold, and in a moment the news spread, nobody knew how or by whom.

Monsieur Philippe, the banker’s son, even carried his forgetfulness so far, as to send a special messenger to Monsieur Tournevau, who was in the boson of his family.

The fish-curer used every Sunday to have several cousins to dinner, and they were having coffee, when a man came in with a letter in his hand.  Monsieur Tournevau was much excited, he opened the envelope and grew pale; it only contained these words in pencil: 

"The cargo of cod has been found; the ship has come into port; good business for you.  Come immediately."

He felt in his pockets, gave the messenger two-pence, and suddenly blushing to his ears, he said:  “I must go out.”  He handed his wife the laconic and mysterious note, rang the bell, and when the servant came in, he asked her to bring him his hat and overcoat immediately.  As soon as he was in the street, he began to run, and the way seemed to him to be twice as long as usual, in consequence of his impatience.

Madame Tellier’s establishment had put on quite a holiday look.  On the ground floor, a number of sailors were making a deafening noise, and Louise and Flora drank with one and the other, so as to merit their name of the two Pumps more than ever.  They were being called for everywhere at once; already they were not quite adequate to their business, and the night bid fair to be a very jolly one for them.

The upstairs room was full by nine o’clock.  Monsieur Vasse, the Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce, Madame’s usual, but Platonic wooer, was talking to her in a corner, in a low voice, and they were both smiling, as if they were about to come to an understanding.