madame de la motte was not wrong in thinking that the cabriolet which she saw driving off contained the two ladies who had just left her.
they had, in fact, found it waiting for them on their exit. it was lightly built, open and fashionable, with high wheels, and a place behind for a servant to stand. it was drawn by a magnificent bay horse of irish breed, short-tailed, and plump, which was driven by the same man whom we have already heard addressed by the name of weber. the horse had become so impatient with waiting, that it was with some difficulty that weber kept him stationary.
when he saw the ladies, he said, “madame, i intended to bring scipio, who is gentle and easy to manage, but unluckily he received an injury last evening, and i was forced to bring bélus, and he is rather unmanageable.”
“oh, weber, i do not mind in the least,” said the lady; “i am well used to driving, and not at all timid.”
“i know how well madame drives, but the roads are so bad. where are we to go?”
“to versailles.”
“by the boulevards then, madame?”
“no, weber; it freezes hard, and the boulevards will be dreadful; the streets will be better.”
he held the horse for the ladies to get in, then jumped up behind, and they set off at a rapid pace.
“well, andrée, what do you think of the countess?” asked the elder lady.
“i think, madame,” she replied, “that madame de la motte is poor and unfortunate.”
“she has good manners, has she not?”
“yes, doubtless.”
“you are somewhat cold about her, andrée.”
“i must confess, there is a look of cunning in her face that does not please me.”
“oh, you are always difficult to please, andrée; to please you, one must have every good quality. now, i find the little countess interesting and simple, both in her pride and in her humility.”
“it is fortunate for her, madame, that she has succeeded in pleasing you.”
“take care!” cried the lady, at the same time endeavoring to check her horse, which nearly ran over a street-porter at the corner of the rue st. antoine.
“gare!” shouted weber, in the voice of the stentor.
they heard the man growling and swearing, in which he was joined by several people near, but bélus soon carried them away from the sound, and they quickly reached the place baudoyer.
from thence the skilful conductress continued her rapid course down the rue de la tisseranderie, a narrow unaristocratic street, always crowded. thus, in spite of the reiterated warnings of herself and weber, the numbers began to increase around them, many of whom cried fiercely, “oh! the cabriolet! down with the cabriolet!”
bélus, however, guided by the steady hand which held the reins, kept on his rapid course, and not the smallest accident had yet occurred.
but in spite of this skilful progress, the people seemed discontented at the rapid course of the cabriolet, which certainly required some care on their part to avoid, and the lady, perhaps half frightened at the murmurs, and knowing the present excited state of the people, only urged on her horse the faster to escape from them.
thus they proceeded until they reached the rue du coq st. honoré, and here had been raised one of the most beautiful of those monuments in snow of which we have spoken.
round this a great crowd had collected, and they were obliged to stop until the people would make an opening for them to pass, which they did at last, but with great grumbling and discontent.
the next obstacle was at the gates of the palais royal, where, in a courtyard, which had been thrown open, were a host of beggars crowding round fires which had been lighted there, and receiving soup, which the servants of m. le duc d’orleans were distributing to them in earthen basins; and as in paris a crowd collects to see everything, the number of the spectators of this scene far exceeded that of the actors.
here, then, they were again obliged to stop, and to their dismay, began to hear distinctly from behind loud cries of “down with the cabriolet! down with those that crush the poor!”
“can it be that those cries are addressed to us?” said the elder lady to her companion.
“indeed, madame, i fear so,” she replied.
“have we, do you think, run over any one?”
“i am sure you have not.”
but still the cries seemed to increase. a crowd soon gathered round them, and some even seized bélus by the reins, who thereupon began to stamp and foam most furiously.
“to the magistrate! to the magistrate!” cried several voices.
the two ladies looked at each other in terror. curious heads began to peep under the apron of the cabriolet.
“oh, they are women,” cried some; “opera girls, doubtless,” said others, “who think they have a right to crush the poor because they receive ten thousand francs a month.”
a general shout hailed these words, and they began again to cry, “to the magistrate!”
the younger lady shrank back trembling with fear; the other looked around her with wonderful resolution, though with frowning brows and compressed lips.
“oh, madame,” cried her companione, “for heaven’s sake, take care!”
“courage, andrée, courage!” she replied.
“but they will recognize you, madame.”
“look through the windows, if weber is still behind the cabriolet.”
“he is trying to get down, but the mob surrounds him. ah! here he comes.”
“weber,” said the lady in german, “we will get out.”
the man vigorously pushed aside those nearest the carriage, and opened the door. the ladies jumped out, and the crowd instantly seized on the horse and cabriolet, which would evidently soon be in pieces.
“what in heaven’s name does it all mean? do you understand it, weber?” said the lady, still in german.
“ma foi, no, madame,” he replied, struggling to free a passage for them to pass.
“but they are not men, they are wild beasts,” continued the lady; “with what do they possibly reproach me?”
she was answered by a voice, whose polite and gentlemanly tone contrasted strangely with the savage murmurs of the people, and which said in excellent german, “they reproach you, madame, with having braved the police order, which appeared this morning, and which prohibited all cabriolets, which are always dangerous, and fifty times more so in this frost, when people can hardly escape fast enough, from driving through the streets until the spring.”
the lady turned, and saw she was addressed by a young officer, whose distinguished and pleasing air, and fine figure, could not but make a favorable impression.
“oh, mon dieu, monsieur,” she said, “i was perfectly ignorant of this order.”
“you are a foreigner, madame?” inquired the young officer.
“yes, sir; but tell me what i must do? they are destroying my cabriolet.”
“you must let them destroy it, and take advantage of that time to escape. the people are furious just now against all the rich, and on the pretext of your breaking this regulation would conduct you before the magistrate.”
“oh, never!” cried andrée.
“then,” said the officer, laughing, “profit by the space which i shall make in the crowd, and vanish.”
the ladies gathered from his manner that he shared the opinion of the people as to their station, but it was no time for explanations.
“give us your arm to a cab-stand,” said the elder lady, in a voice full of authority.
“i was going to make your horse rear, and thereby clear you a passage,” said the young man, who did not much wish to take the charge of escorting them through the crowd; “the people will become yet more enraged, if they hear us speaking in a language unknown to them.”
“weber,” cried the lady, in a firm voice, “make bélus rear to disperse the crowd.”
“and then, madame?”
“remain till we are gone.”
“but they will destroy the carriage.”
“let them; what does that matter? save bélus if you can, but yourself above all.”
“yes, madame;” and a slight touch to the horse soon produced the desired effect of dispersing the nearest part of the crowd, and throwing down those who held by his reins.
“your arm, sir!” again said the lady to the officer; “come on, petite,” turning to andrée.
“let us go then, courageous woman,” said the young man, giving his arm, with real admiration, to her who asked for it.
in a few minutes he had conducted them to a cab-stand, but the men were all asleep on their seats.
