clothing, analogous, with due allowance, to that of
Mistigris, consisted of a shabby surtout coat, American-green in color,
much worn, but clean and well-brushed; a black waistcoat buttoned to the
throat, which almost concealed a scarlet neckerchief; and trousers,
also black and even more worn than the coat, flapping his thin legs. In
addition, a pair of very muddy boots indicated that he had come on
foot and from some distance to the coach office. With a rapid look this
artist seized the whole scene of the Lion d'Argent, the stables, the
courtyard, the various lights and shades, and the details; then he
looked at Mistigris, whose satirical glance had followed his own.

"Charming!" said Mistigris.

"Yes, very," replied the other.

"We seem to have got here too early," pursued Mistigris. "Couldn't we
get a mouthful somewhere? My stomach, like Nature, abhors a vacuum."

"Have we time to get a cup of coffee?" said the artist, in a gentle
voice, to Pierrotin.

"Yes, but don't be long," answered the latter.

"Good; that means we have a quarter of an hour," remarked Mistigris,
with the innate genius for observation of the Paris rapin.

The pair disappeared. Nine o'clock was striking in the hotel kitchen.
Georges thought it just and reasonable to remonstrate with Pierrotin.

"Hey! my friend; when a man is blessed with such wheels as these
(striking the clumsy tires with his cane) he ought at least to have the
merit of punctuality. The deuce! one doesn't get into that thing for
pleasure; I have business that is devilishly pressing or I wouldn't
trust my bones to it. And that horse, which you call Rougeot, he doesn't
look likely to make up for lost time."

"We are going to harness Bichette while those gentlemen take their
coffee," replied Pierrotin. "Go and ask, you," he said to his porter,
"if Pere Leger is coming with us--"

"Where is your Pere Leger?" asked Georges.

"Over the way, at number 50. He couldn't get a place in the Beaumont
diligence," said Pierrotin, still speaking to his porter and apparently
making no answer to his customer; then he disappeared himself in search
of Bichette.

Georges, after shaking hands with his friend, got into the coach,
handling with an air of great importance a portfolio which he placed
beneath the cushion of the seat. He took the opposite corner to that of
Oscar, on the same seat.

"This Pere Leger troubles me," he said.

"They can't take away our places," replied Oscar.