“When we came back from our walk we were greatly astonished not to find the felucca any more.  We went to the inn, where I knew you had ordered dinner; but the inn-keeper knew nothing except that he was expecting the prince and a young officer to dine with you.  I told him he might wait for you in vain, and just then the prince came up in a rage, and told the inn-keeper that now you were gone he might look to you for his payment.  ‘My lord,’ said the inn-keeper, ’the gentleman wanted to pay me, but I respected the orders I had received from your highness and would not take the money.’  At this the prince flung him a louis with an ill grace, and asked us who we were.  I told him that we belonged to you, and that you had not waited for us either, which put us to great trouble.  ’You will get away easily enough,’ said he; and then he began to laugh, and swore the jest was a pleasant one.  He then asked me who the ladies were.  I told him that the one was your niece, and that I knew nothing of the other; but the abbe interfered, and said she was your cuisine.  The prince guessed he meant to say ‘cousin,’ and burst out laughing, in which he was joined by the young officer.  ‘Greet him from me,’ said he, as he went away, ’and tell him that we shall meet again, and that I will pay him out for the trick he has played me.’  The worthy host laughed, too, when the prince had gone, and gave us a good dinner, saying that the prince’s Louis would pay for it all.  When we had dined we hired two horses, and slept at Nice.  In the morning we rode on again, being certain of finding you here.”  Marcoline told the abbe in a cold voice to take care not to tell anyone else that she was his cuisine, or his cousin, or else it would go ill with him, as she did not wish to be thought either the one or the other.  I also advised him seriously not to speak French for the future, as the absurd way in which he had committed himself made everyone about him ashamed.”

Just as I was ordering post-horses to take us to Frejus, a man appeared, and told me I owed him ten louis for the storage of a carriage which I had left on his hands nearly three years ago.  This was when I was taking Rosalie to Italy.  I laughed, for the carriage itself was not worth five louis.  “Friend,” said I, “I make you a present of the article.”

“I don’t want your present.  I want the ten louis you owe me.”

“You won’t get the ten louis.  I will see you further first.”

“We will see about that”; and so saying he took his departure.

I sent for horses that we might continue our journey.

A few moments after, a sergeant summoned me to the governor’s presence.  I followed him, and was politely requested to pay the ten louis that my creditor demanded.  I answered that, in the agreement I had entered into for six francs a month, there was no mention of the length of the term, and that I did not want to withdraw my carriage.

“But supposing you were never to withdraw it?”