"Rogue!" cried the worthy Sicard, stamping his foot angrily . . . . "A cheat! Know, my gossip, that this gentleman cheats no one . . . . If I carried him for nothing it was because it gave me pleasure to do so. Seeing him stopped by the rain, I drew my carriage up to the door and said to him, 'Get in, sir!' 'No, thank you my lad,' he answered, in a voice sweet as music. 'But you will be wet to the skin.' 'That is very possible; but tell me only, my friend, what time it is.' 'Eleven o'clock, sir.' 'Eleven o'clock! and I have business at the Palais Marchand at half-past eleven,' exclaimed he, involuntarily looking sadly at the rain and the gutters, which were running like rivers. 'Get in, then, sir,' I repeated; 'in twenty minutes I will set you down at the Palais Marchand, while on foot it will take you at least until noon to get there!' 'I thank you, my lad,' said he, half-smiling, half-sighing, 'but I have no money. So don't lose your time here!' 'No money!' I cried, opening the door, and almost pushing the little gentleman into my carriage, for he was slender as a reed. 'By Jupiter, it shall not be Jerome Sicard, who, for a franc, leaves a gentleman like you to miss an appointment! Take my number, and you may pay me when you like, sir;' and without giving him time to answer, I jumped on my seat, and in eighteen minutes I deposited him safely at the Palais Marchand." "Well done! he has bewitched everybody, even a hackney-coachman," cried Dame Landry; "but patience--patience!" "Shall you soon be done?" cried out the steward of the Princess Soubise.