e days of struggle, is almost happy at last,
when all is over. Even the convict sleeps soundly on the night preceding
his execution. Just so I recovered my self-possession and equanimity
after the train had departed.

"I went back to my hackman. His serenity had vanished as mine had
arrived; and the fury that possessed me seemed to pass over and take up
its abode with him.

"'Will you pay me?' he demanded, fiercely.

"'My friend,' said I, 'it is impossible.' And I repeated my proposition
to call and settle with him in a day or two.

"'And you will not pay me now?' he vociferated.

"'My friend, I cannot.'

"'Then I know what I shall do!' turning away with a gesture of rage.

"'I have done what I could, now you shall try what you can,' I answered,
mildly.

"'_Ecoutez donc!_' he hissed, turning once more upon me. 'I go to Madam,
I demand my pay of her. What do you say to that?'

"A few minutes before I should have been overwhelmed by the suggestion.
I was not pleased with it now. No man who has enjoyed the society of
ladies, and fancied that he appeared smart in their presence, fancies
the idea of being utterly shamed and humiliated in their eyes. I ought
to have had the courage to say to Mrs. Waldoborough, when she had the
coolness to send me off with the _coupe_, instead of my dinner: 'Excuse
me, Madam, I have not the money to pay this man!'

"It would have been bitter, that confession; but better one pill at the
beginning of a malady than a whole boxful afterwards. Better truth,
anyhow, though it kills you, than a precarious existence on false
appearances. I had, by my own folly, through toadyism in the first place
and moral cowardice afterwards, placed myself in an embarrassing and
ludicrous position; and I must take the consequences.

"'Very well,' said I, 'if you are absolutely bent on having your money
to-night, I suppose that it is the best thing you can do. But say to
Madam that I expect my uncle by the next steamer; that I wished you to
wait till his arrival for your pay; and that you not only refused, but
put me to a great deal of trouble. It is nothing extraordinary,' I
continued, in the hope to soften him, 'for gay young men, Americans, to
be without money for a few days in Paris, expecting remittances from
home; and you fellows ought to be more accommodating.'

"'True! true!' says the driver, turning again to go. 'But I must have my
pay all the same. I shall tell Madam what you say.'

"He was