The disdain which the servants learned from their master grew rapidly. So much so that one Monday morning, toward nine o'clock, Madame Desvarennes came down to the courtyard, expecting to find the carriage which generally took her to the station. It was the second coachman's duty to drive her, and she did not see him. Thinking that he was a little late, she walked to the stable-yard. There, instead of the victoria which usually took her, she saw a large mail-coach to which two grooms were harnessing the Prince's four bays. The head coachman, an Englishman, dressed like a gentleman, with a stand-up collar, and a rose in his buttonhole, stood watching the operations with an air of importance. Madame Desvarennes went straight to him. He had seen her coming, out of the, corner of his eye, without disturbing himself. "How is it that the carriage is not ready to take me to the station?" asked the mistress. "I don't know, Madame," answered this personage, condescendingly, without taking his hat off. "But where is the coachman who generally drives me?" "I don't know. If Madame would like to see in the stables--" And with a careless gesture, the Englishman pointed out to Madame Desvarennes the magnificent buildings at the end of the courtyard. The blood rose to the mistress's cheeks; she gave the coachman such a look that he moved away a little. Then glancing at her watch, she said, coldly: "I have only a quarter of an hour before the train leaves, but here are horses that ought to go well. Jump on the box, my man, you shall drive me." The Englishman shook his head. "Those horses are not for service; they are only for pleasure," he answered. "I drive the Prince. I don't mind driving the Princess, but I am not here to drive you, Madame." And with an insolent gesture, setting his hat firmly on his head, he turned his back upon the mistress. At the same moment, a sharp stroke from a light cane made his hat roll on the pavement. And as the Englishman turned round, red with rage, he found himself face to face with the Prince, whose approach neither Madame Desvarennes nor he had heard. Serge, in an elegant morning suit, was going round his stables when he had been attracted by this discussion. The Englishman, uneasy, sought to frame an excuse. "Hold your tongue!" exclaimed the Prince, sharply, "and go and wait my orders." And turning toward the mistress: "Since this man refuses to drive you, I shall have the pleasure of taking you to the station myself," he said, with a charming smile. And as Madame Desvarennes remonstrated, "Oh! I can drive four-in-hand," he added. "For once in my life that talent will have been of some use to me. Pray jump in."