A man in a black frock coat and white shirt cuffs came bareheaded from
the office and pointed us out to the interpreter, who wore brass
buttons. The interpreter appeared to mention it to the guide, who wiped
his perspiring brows under a soft brown felt hat. A fiacre crawled round
the corner and paused to look on, and the Senator said, "Now which of
you three gentlemen is responsible for my ride to Versailles?"
The interpreter looked at him with a hostile expression, the guide made
a gesture of despair at the volume of tourist traffic, and the man with
the shirt cuffs said, "You 'ave took your plazes on ze previous day?"
"I took them from you ten minutes ago," poppa replied. "What a memory
you've got!"
"Zen zare is nothings guaranteed. But we will send special carriage, and
be'ind you can follow up," and he indicated the fiacre which had now
drawn into line.
"I don't think so," said poppa, "when I buy four-in-hand tickets I don't
take one-in-hand accommodation."
"You will not go in ze private carriage?"
"I will not."
"_Mais_--it is much ze preferable.
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