A Start in Life [24]
and Oscar, he was, in
reality, looking for the head-clerk of his notary (in case he had been
forced, like himself, to take Pierrotin's vehicle), intending to
caution him instantly about his own incognito. But feeling reassured
by the appearance of Oscar, and that of Pere Leger, and, above all, by
the quasi-military air, the waxed moustaches, and the general look of
an adventurer that distinguished Georges, he concluded that his note
had reached his notary, Alexandre Crottat, in time to prevent the
departure of the clerk.
"Pere Leger," said Pierrotin, when they reached the steep hill of the
faubourg Saint-Denis by the rue de la Fidelite, "suppose we get out,
hey?"
"I'll get out, too," said the count, hearing Leger's name.
"Goodness! if this is how we are going, we shall do fourteen miles in
fifteen days!" cried Georges.
"It isn't my fault," said Pierrotin, "if a passenger wishes to get
out."
"Ten louis for you if you keep the secret of my being here as I told
you before," said the count in a low voice, taking Pierrotin by the
arm.
"Oh, my thousand francs!" thought Pierrotin as he winked an eye at
Monsieur de Serizy, which meant, "Rely on me."
Oscar and Georges stayed in the coach.
"Look here, Pierrotin, since Pierrotin you are," cried Georges, when
the passengers were once more stowed away in the vehicle, "if you
don't mean to go faster than this, say so! I'll pay my fare and take a
post-horse at Saint-Denis, for I have important business on hand which
can't be delayed."
"Oh! he'll go well enough," said Pere Leger. "Besides, the distance
isn't great."
"I am never more than half an hour late," asserted Pierrotin.
"Well, you are not wheeling the Pope in this old barrow of yours,"
said Georges, "so, get on."
"Perhaps he's afraid of shaking monsieur," said Mistigris looking
round at the count. "But you shouldn't have preferences, Pierrotin, it
isn't right."
"Coucous and the Charter make all Frenchmen equals," said Georges.
"Oh! be easy," said Pere Leger; "we are sure to get to La Chapelle by
mid-day,"--La Chapelle being the village next beyond the Barriere of
Saint-Denis.
CHAPTER IV
THE GRANDSON OF THE FAMOUS CZERNI-GEORGES
Those who travel in public conveyances know that the persons thus
united by chance do not immediately have anything to say to one
another; unless under special circumstances, conversation rarely
begins until they have gone some distance. This period of silence is
employed as much in mutual examination as in settling into their
places. Minds need to get their equilibrium as much as bodies. When
each person thinks he has discovered the age, profession, and
character of his companions, the most talkative member of the company
begins, and the conversation gets under way with all the more vivacity
because those present feel a need of enlivening the journey and
forgetting its tedium.
That is how things happen in French stage-coaches. In other countries
customs are very different. Englishmen pique themselves on never
opening their lips; Germans are melancholy in a vehicle; Italians too
wary to talk; Spaniards have no public conveyances; and Russians no
roads. There is no amusement except in the lumbering diligences of
France, that gabbling and indiscreet country, where every one is in a
hurry to laugh and show his wit, and where jest and epigram enliven
all things, even the poverty of the lower classes and the weightier
cares of the solid bourgeois. In a coach there is no police to check
tongues, and legislative assemblies have set the fashion of public
discussion. When a young man of twenty-two, like the one named
Georges, is clever and lively, he is much tempted, especially under
circumstances like the present, to abuse those qualities.
In the first place, Georges had soon decided that he was the superior
human being of the party there
reality, looking for the head-clerk of his notary (in case he had been
forced, like himself, to take Pierrotin's vehicle), intending to
caution him instantly about his own incognito. But feeling reassured
by the appearance of Oscar, and that of Pere Leger, and, above all, by
the quasi-military air, the waxed moustaches, and the general look of
an adventurer that distinguished Georges, he concluded that his note
had reached his notary, Alexandre Crottat, in time to prevent the
departure of the clerk.
"Pere Leger," said Pierrotin, when they reached the steep hill of the
faubourg Saint-Denis by the rue de la Fidelite, "suppose we get out,
hey?"
"I'll get out, too," said the count, hearing Leger's name.
"Goodness! if this is how we are going, we shall do fourteen miles in
fifteen days!" cried Georges.
"It isn't my fault," said Pierrotin, "if a passenger wishes to get
out."
"Ten louis for you if you keep the secret of my being here as I told
you before," said the count in a low voice, taking Pierrotin by the
arm.
"Oh, my thousand francs!" thought Pierrotin as he winked an eye at
Monsieur de Serizy, which meant, "Rely on me."
Oscar and Georges stayed in the coach.
"Look here, Pierrotin, since Pierrotin you are," cried Georges, when
the passengers were once more stowed away in the vehicle, "if you
don't mean to go faster than this, say so! I'll pay my fare and take a
post-horse at Saint-Denis, for I have important business on hand which
can't be delayed."
"Oh! he'll go well enough," said Pere Leger. "Besides, the distance
isn't great."
"I am never more than half an hour late," asserted Pierrotin.
"Well, you are not wheeling the Pope in this old barrow of yours,"
said Georges, "so, get on."
"Perhaps he's afraid of shaking monsieur," said Mistigris looking
round at the count. "But you shouldn't have preferences, Pierrotin, it
isn't right."
"Coucous and the Charter make all Frenchmen equals," said Georges.
"Oh! be easy," said Pere Leger; "we are sure to get to La Chapelle by
mid-day,"--La Chapelle being the village next beyond the Barriere of
Saint-Denis.
CHAPTER IV
THE GRANDSON OF THE FAMOUS CZERNI-GEORGES
Those who travel in public conveyances know that the persons thus
united by chance do not immediately have anything to say to one
another; unless under special circumstances, conversation rarely
begins until they have gone some distance. This period of silence is
employed as much in mutual examination as in settling into their
places. Minds need to get their equilibrium as much as bodies. When
each person thinks he has discovered the age, profession, and
character of his companions, the most talkative member of the company
begins, and the conversation gets under way with all the more vivacity
because those present feel a need of enlivening the journey and
forgetting its tedium.
That is how things happen in French stage-coaches. In other countries
customs are very different. Englishmen pique themselves on never
opening their lips; Germans are melancholy in a vehicle; Italians too
wary to talk; Spaniards have no public conveyances; and Russians no
roads. There is no amusement except in the lumbering diligences of
France, that gabbling and indiscreet country, where every one is in a
hurry to laugh and show his wit, and where jest and epigram enliven
all things, even the poverty of the lower classes and the weightier
cares of the solid bourgeois. In a coach there is no police to check
tongues, and legislative assemblies have set the fashion of public
discussion. When a young man of twenty-two, like the one named
Georges, is clever and lively, he is much tempted, especially under
circumstances like the present, to abuse those qualities.
In the first place, Georges had soon decided that he was the superior
human being of the party there