'Bah! what fellows!' exclaimed a head thrust out of the window of the smaller carriage; 'please to inform me when you are ready to start again. I shall put on my nightcap, and take a nap till you have done.' The postilion removed the lamp from its place in the carriage, and proceeded to examine the wheels. Lindet stepped forward and volunteered his assistance. The wheels were faster than was anticipated. 'Back the horse, and be damned to you!' said the postilion to the coachman. 'I am backing, you pert jackanapes,' answered the other. 'You are not backing sufficiently,' said the postboy. 'Will you make my mare back till she is black in the face, hey?' 'Yes, I will, hey!' 'Then you won't, hey!' 'I dare you to touch her, hey!' 'You dare! hey!' 'Yes, I do! hey!' 'Now then,' exclaimed the gentleman from the travelling coach; 'I insist on a cessation of this wrangling. Loose the wheels at once.' 'Allow me,' said the gentleman from the Parisian barouche. He leaped out of his conveyance, caught the lantern from the postboy, and suddenly, with such abruptness as not to give the other traveller time to withdraw his head, he turned the full blaze of the lamp upon his face. His hat was off immediately, and he bowed low. Grégoire touched Lindet on the arm, and pointed to the illumined face. It was that of Necker. 'Look at the top of the coach,' whispered the abbé; 'it is laden with boxes. He is dismissed.' Lindet looked. The light was immediately averted. 'You are on your way to the place I have left,' said Necker, in a low voice to the other. 'I have been summoned. But whether to replace you or not I cannot tell yet. Bah! what strange meetings there are in the world!' 'I wish you success where I have failed,' said Necker, still in a voice scarcely above a whisper. 'We shall try different means,' replied the other; 'but----take a pinch!' he extended his box, it was of gold. Necker declined. 'Well,' said the speaker, emptying some into his palm and applying it thus to his nose; 'we must do our best.' At that moment another head appeared at the window of the little carriage. 'There's my son-in-law,' said Foulon, for it was he; 'just awake. He has been snoring all the way from Paris. Berthier, my boy, brisk up. Here is----' 'Hush, hush! for Heaven's sake,' exclaimed the ex-minister; 'it is most important that nothing should be known of my departure.' 'All right, sir!' said the coachman, approaching Foulon. 'All right at last, is it? Very well. Good evening, monsieur.' He returned to his carriage. 'Will you drive against me again, hey!' shouted the coachman, when he had mounted the box. 'I would do so a thousand times, hey!' yelled the postboy, leaping on his horse. 'You lie, you gherkin!' called the coachman, gathering the reins into his hand. 'You are drunk, you pumpkin!' cried the postboy, cracking his whip. 'A thousand devils! say that again, hey!' roared the driver as the vehicles passed.