The ladies were free from the crowd for the present, but there was some danger that they might be followed and recognized, when the same tumult¹ would doubtless be renewed and escape a second time be more difficult. The young officer knew this, and therefore hastened to awaken² one of the half-frozen and sleepy men. So stupefied, however, did they seem, that he had great difficulty in rousing one of them. At last he took him by the collar and shook him roughly.  
“Gently, gently!” cried the man, sitting up.
 
“Where do you wish to go, ladies?” asked the officer.
 
“To Versailles,” said the elder lady, still speaking German.
 
“Oh, to Versailles!” repeated the coachman; “four miles and a half over this ice. No, I would rather not.”
 
“We will pay well,” said the lady.
 
This was repeated to the coachman in French by the young officer.
 
“But how much?” said the coachman; “you see it is not only going, I must come back again.”
 
“A louis; is that enough?” asked the lady of the officer, who, turning to the coachman, said,—
 
“These ladies offer you a louis.”
 
“Well, that will do, though I risk breaking my horses’ legs.”
 
“Why, you rascal³, you know that if you were paid all the way there and back, it would be but twelve francs, and we offer you twenty-four.”
 
“Oh, do not stay to bargain,” cried the lady; “he shall have twenty louis if he will only set off at once.”
 
“One is enough, madame.”
 
“Come down, sir, and open the door.”
 
“I will be paid first,” said the man.
 
“You will!” said the officer fiercely.
 
“Oh! let us pay,” said the lady, putting her hand in her pocket. She turned pale. “Oh! mon Dieu, I have lost my purse! Feel for yours, Andrée.”
 
“Oh! madame, it is gone too.”
 
They looked at each other in dismay, while the young officer watched their proceedings⁴, and the coachman sat grinning, and priding himself on his caution.
 
The lady was about to offer her gold chain as a pledge, when the young officer drew out a louis, and offered it to the man, who thereupon got down and opened the door.
 
The ladies thanked him warmly and got in.
 
“And now, sir, drive these ladies carefully and honestly.”
 
The ladies looked at each other in terror; they could not bear to see their protector leave them.
 
“Oh! madame,” said Andrée, “do not let him go away.”
 
“But why not? we will ask for his address, and return him his louis to-morrow, with a little note of thanks, which you shall write.”
 
“But, madame, suppose the coachman should not keep faith with us, and should turn us out half way, what would become of us?”
 
“Oh! we will take his number.”
 
“Yes, madame, I do not deny that you could have him punished afterwards; but meanwhile, you would not reach Versailles, and what would they think?”
 
“True,” replied her companion.
 
The officer advanced to take leave.
 
“Monsieur,” said Andrée, “one word more, if you please.”
 
“At your orders, madame,” he said politely, but somewhat stiffly.
 
“Monsieur, you cannot refuse us one more favor, after serving us so much?”
 
“What is it, madame?”
 
“We are afraid of the coachman, who seems so unwilling⁷ to go.”
 
“You need not fear,” replied he; “I have his number, and if he does not behave well, apply to me.”
 
“To you, sir?” said Andrée in French, forgetting herself; “we do not even know your name.”
 
“You speak French,” exclaimed the young man, “and you have been condemning⁸ me all this time to blunder on in German!”
 
“Excuse us, sir,” said the elder lady, coming to Andrée’s rescue, “but you must see, that though not perhaps foreigners, we are strangers in Paris, and above all, out of our places in a hackney coach. You are sufficiently⁹ a man of the world to see that we are placed in an awkward position. I feel assured you are generous enough to believe the best of us, and to complete the service you have rendered, and above all, to ask us no questions.”
 
“Madame,” replied the officer, charmed with her noble, yet pleasing manner, “dispose of me as you will.”
 
“Then, sir, have the kindness to get in, and accompany us to Versailles.”
 
The officer instantly placed himself opposite to them, and directed the man to drive on.
 
After proceeding⁵ in silence for some little time, he began to feel himself surrounded with delicate and delicious perfumes, and gradually began to think better of the ladies’ position. “They are,” thought he, “ladies who have been detained late at some rendezvous¹⁰, and are now anxious to regain¹¹ Versailles, much frightened, and a little ashamed; still, two ladies, driving themselves in a cabriolet! However,” recollected¹² he, “there was a servant behind; but then again, no money on either of them, but probably the footman carried the purse; and the carriage was certainly a very elegant one, and the horse could not have been worth less than one hundred and fifty louis; therefore they must be rich, so that the accidental want of money proves nothing. But why speak a foreign language when they must be French? However, that at least shows a good education, and they speak both languages with perfect purity; besides, there is an air of distinction about them. The supplication¹³ of the younger one was touching¹⁴, and the request of the other was noble and imposing¹⁵; indeed, I begin to feel it dangerous to pass two or three hours in a carriage with two such pretty women, pretty and discreet¹⁶ also; for they do not speak, but wait for me to begin.”
 
On their parts, the ladies were doubtless thinking of him, for just as he had arrived at these conclusions, the elder lady said to her companion, but this time in English:
 
“Really, this coachman crawls along; we shall never reach Versailles; I fear our poor companion must be terribly ennuyé.”
 
“Particularly,” answered Andrée, smiling, “as our conversation has not been very amusing.”
 
“Do you not think he has a most distinguished¹⁷ air?”
 
“Yes, certainly.”
 
“Besides, he wears the uniform of a naval¹⁸ officer, and all naval officers are of good family. He looks well in it, too, for he is very handsome.”
 
Here the young man interrupted them. “Your pardon, ladies,” said he, in excellent English, “but I must tell you that I understand English perfectly¹⁹; I do not, however, know Spanish; therefore, if you can and like to speak in that language, you are safe from my understanding you.”
 
“Oh, monsieur,” replied the lady, laughing, “we had no harm to say of you, as you must have heard; therefore we will content ourselves with French for the remainder of the time.”
 
“Thanks, madame, but if my presence be irksome to you——”
 
“You cannot suppose that, sir, as it was we who begged you to accompany us.”
 
“Exacted it, even,” said Andrée.
 
“Oh, madame, you overwhelm me; pray pardon me my momentary²⁰ hesitation²¹; but Paris is so full of snares²² and deceptions²³.”
 
“You then took us for——”
 
“Monsieur took us for snares, that is all.”
 
“Oh! ladies,” said the young man, quite humiliated²⁴, “I assure you, I did not.”
 
“But what is the matter? The coach stops.”
 
“I will see, madame.”
 
“Oh! I think we are overturning; pray take care, sir.”
 
And Andrée, in her terror, laid her hand on the young man’s shoulder.
 
He, yielding to an impulse, attempted to seize her little hand; but she had in a moment thrown herself back again in the carriage. He therefore got out, and found the coachman engaged in raising one of his horses, which had fallen on the ice.
 
The horse, with his aid, was soon on its legs again, and they pursued their way.
 
It seemed, however, that this little interruption had destroyed the intimacy²⁵ which had begun to spring up, for after the ladies had asked and been told the cause of their detention²⁶, all relapsed into silence.
 
The young man, however, who had derived²⁷ some pleasure from the touch of that little hand, thought he would at least have a foot in exchange; he therefore stretched out his, and endeavored to touch hers, which, was, however, quickly withdrawn²⁸; and when he did just touch that of the elder lady, she said, with great sang-froid,——
 
“I fear, sir, I am dreadfully in your way.”
 
He colored up to the ears, and felt thankful to the darkness, which prevented it from being seen. After this, he desisted, and remained perfectly still, fearing even to renew the conversation, lest he should seem impertinent to these ladies, to whom, at first, he had thought himself rather condescending²⁹ in his politeness.
 
Still, in spite of himself, he felt more and more strongly attracted towards them, and an increasing interest in them. From time to time he heard them speak softly to each other, and he caught these words:
 
“So late an hour! what excuse for being out?”
 
At last the coach stopped again, but this time it was no accident, but simply that they had arrived at Versailles.
 
The young man thought the time had passed with marvelous quickness.
 
“We are at Versailles,” said the coachman.
 
“Where must he stop, ladies?” asked the officer.
 
“At the Place d’Armes.”
 
“At the Place d’Armes, coachman,” said the officer; “go on.—I must say something to them,” thought he, “or they will now think me a stupid, as they must before have thought me impertinent.”
 
“Mesdames,” said he, “you are at length arrived.”
 
“Thanks to your generous assistance.”
 
“What trouble we have given you,” added Andrée.
 
“Oh, madame, do not speak of it!”
 
“Well, sir, we shall not forget; will you tell us your name?”
 
“My name?”
 
“Certainly, sir; you do not wish to make us a present of a louis, I hope.”
 
“Oh, madame, if that is it,” said the young man, rather piqued³⁰, “I yield; I am the Comte de Charney, and as madame has already remarked, a naval officer.”
 
“Charney,” repeated the elder lady, “I shall not forget.”
 
“Yes, madame, Georges de Charney.”
 
“And you live——?”
 
“Hôtel des Princes, Rue⁶ de Richelieu.”
 
The coach stopped. The elder lady opened the door and jumped out quickly, holding out a hand to her companion.
 
“But pray, ladies,” said he, preparing to follow them, “take my arm; you are not yet at your own home.”
 
“Oh, sir, do not move.”
 
“Not move?”
 
“No; pray remain in the coach.”
 
“You cannot walk alone at this time of night; it is impossible.”
 
“Now, you see,” said the elder lady, gaily³¹, “after almost refusing to oblige us, you wish to be too obliging.”
 
“But, madame——”
 
“Sir, remain to the end a loyal and gallant³² cavalier; we thank you, M. de Charney, with all our hearts, and will not even ask your word——”
 
“To do what, madame?”
 
“To shut the door, and order the man to drive back to Paris, without even looking where we go, which you will do, will you not?”
 
“I will obey you, madame; coachman, back again.” And he put a second louis into the man’s hand, who joyfully³³ set off on his return.
 
The young man sighed, as he took his place on the cushions which the unknown ladies had just occupied.
 
They remained motionless till the coach was out of sight, and then took their way towards the castle.