Chapter 1. That Which Was Lacking To Pierrotin's Happiness
Railroads, in a future not far distant, must force certain industriesto disappear forever, and modify several others, more especially thoserelating to the different modes of transportation in use around Paris.Therefore the persons and things which are the elements of this Scenewill soon give to it the character of an archaeological work. Ournephews ought to be enchanted to learn the social material of an epochwhich they will call the "olden time." The picturesque "coucous" whichstood on the Place de la Concorde, encumbering the Cours-la-Reine,--coucous which had flourished for a century, and were still numerous in1830, scarcely exist in 1842, unless on the occasion of someattractive suburban solemnity, like that of the Grandes Eaux ofVersailles. In 1820, the various celebrated places called the"Environs of Paris" did not all possess a regular stage-coach service.
Nevertheless, the Touchards, father and son, had acquired a monopolyof travel and transportation to all the populous towns within aradius of forty-five miles; and their enterprise constituted a fineestablishment in the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. In spite of theirlong-standing rights, in spite, too, of their efforts, their capital,and all the advantages of a powerful centralization, the Touchardcoaches ("messageries") found terrible competition in the coucous forall points with a circumference of fifteen or twenty miles. Thepassion of the Parisian for the country is such that local enterprisecould successfully compete with the Lesser Stage company,--PetitesMessageries, the name given to the Touchard enterprise to distinguishit from that of the Grandes Messageries of the rue Montmartre. At thetime of which we write, the Touchard success was stimulatingspeculators. For every small locality in the neighborhood of Paristhere sprang up schemes of beautiful, rapid, and commodious vehicles,departing and arriving in Paris at fixed hours, which produced,naturally, a fierce competition. Beaten on the long distances oftwelve to eighteen miles, the coucou came down to shorter trips, andso lived on for several years. At last, however, it succumbed toomnibuses, which demonstrated the possibility of carrying eighteenpersons in a vehicle drawn by two horses. To-day the coucous--if bychance any of those birds of ponderous flight still linger in thesecond-hand carriage-shops--might be made, as to its structure andarrangement, the subject of learned researches comparable to those ofCuvier on the animals discovered in the chalk pits of Montmartre.
These petty enterprises, which had struggled since 1822 against theTouchards, usually found a strong foothold in the good-will andsympathy of the inhabitants of the districts which they served. Theperson undertaking the business as proprietor and conductor was nearlyalways an inn-keeper along the route, to whom the beings, things, andinterests with which he had to do were all familiar. He could executecommissions intelligently; he never asked as much for his littlestages, and therefore obtained more custom than the Touchard coaches.He managed to elude the necessity of a custom-house permit. If needwere, he was willing to infringe the law as to the number ofpassengers he might carry. In short, he possessed the affection of themasses; and thus it happened that whenever a rival came upon the sameroute, if his days for running were not the same as those of thecoucou, travellers would put off their journey to make it with theirlong-tried coachman, although his vehicle and his horses might be in afar from reassuring condition.
One of the lines which the Touchards, father and son, endeavored tomonopolize, and the one most stoutly disputed (as indeed it still is),is that of Paris to Beaumont-sur-Oise,--a line extremely profitable,for three rival enterprises worked it in 1822. In vain the Touchardslowered their price; in vain they constructed better coaches andstarted oftener. Competition still continued, so productive is a lineon which are little towns like Saint-Denis and Saint-Brice, andvillages like Pierrefitte, Groslay, Ecouen, Poncelles, Moisselles,Monsoult, Maffliers, Franconville, Presles, Nointel, Nerville, etc.The Touchard coaches finally extended their route to Chambly; butcompetition followed. To-day the Toulouse, a rival enterprise, goes asfar as Beauvais.
Along this route, which is that toward England, there lies a roadwhich turns off at a place well-named, in view of its topography, TheCave, and leads through a most delightful valley in the basin of theOise to the little town of Isle-Adam, doubly celebrated as the cradleof the family, now extinct, of Isle-Adam, and also as the formerresidence of the Bourbon-Contis. Isle-Adam is a little town flanked bytwo large villages, Nogent and Parmain, both remarkable for splendidquarries, which have furnished material for many of the finestbuildings in modern Paris and in foreign lands,--for the base andcapital of the columns of the Brussels theatre are of Nogent stone.Though remarkable for its beautiful sites, for the famous chateauxwhich princes, monks, and designers have built, such as Cassan, Stors,Le Val, Nointel, Persan, etc., this region had escaped competition in1822, and was reached by two coaches only, working more or less inharmony.
This exception to the rule of rivalry was founded on reasons that areeasy to understand. From the Cave, the point on the route to Englandwhere a paved road (due to the luxury of the Princes of Conti) turnedoff to Isle-Adam, the distance is six miles. No speculating enterprisewould make such a detour, for Isle-Adam was the terminus of the road,which did not go beyond it. Of late years, another road has been madebetween the valley of Montmorency and the valley of the Oise; but in1822 the only road which led to Isle-Adam was the paved highway of thePrinces of Conti. Pierrotin and his colleague reigned, therefore, fromParis to Isle-Adam, beloved by every one along the way. Pierrotin'svehicle, together with that of his comrade, and Pierrotin himself,were so well known that even the inhabitants on the main road as faras the Cave were in the habit of using them; for there was alwaysbetter chance of a seat to be had than in the Beaumont coaches, whichwere almost always full. Pierrotin and his competitor were on the bestof terms. When the former started from Isle-Adam, the latter wasreturning from Paris, and vice versa.
It is unnecessary to speak of the rival. Pierrotin possessed thesympathies of his region; besides, he is the only one of the two whoappears in this veracious narrative. Let it suffice you to know thatthe two coach proprietors lived under a good understanding, rivalledeach other loyally, and obtained customers by honorable proceedings.In Paris they used, for economy's sake, the same yard, hotel, andstable, the same coach-house, office, and clerk. This detail is alonesufficient to show that Pierrotin and his competitor were, as thepopular saying is, "good dough." The hotel at which they put up inParis, at the corner of the rue d'Enghien, is still there, and iscalled the "Lion d'Argent." The proprietor of the establishment, whichfrom time immemorial had lodged coachmen and coaches, drove himselffor the great company of Daumartin, which was so firmly establishedthat its neighbors, the Touchards, whose place of business wasdirectly opposite, never dreamed of starting a rival coach on theDaumartin line.
Though the departures for Isle-Adam professed to take place at a fixedhour, Pierrotin and his co-rival practised an indulgence in thatrespect which won for them the grateful affection of the country-people, and also violent remonstrances on the part of strangersaccustomed to the regularity of the great lines of public conveyances.But the two conductors of these vehicles, which were half diligence,half coucou, were invariably defended by their regular customers. Theafternoon departure at four o'clock usually lagged on till half-past,while that of the morning, fixed for eight o'clock, was seldom knownto take place before nine. In this respect, however, the system waselastic. In summer, that golden period for the coaching business, therule of departure, rigorous toward strangers, was often relaxed forcountry customers. This method not infrequently enabled Pierrotin topocket two fares for one place, if a countryman came early and wanteda seat already booked and paid for by some "bird of passage" who was,unluckily for himself, a little late. Such elasticity will certainlynot commend itself to purists in morality; but Pierrotin and hiscolleague justified it on the varied grounds of "hard times," of theirlosses during the winter months, of the necessity of soon gettingbetter coaches, and of the duty of keeping exactly to the ruleswritten on the tariff, copies of which were, however, never shown,unless some chance traveller was obstinate enough to demand it.
Pierrotin, a man about forty years of age, was already the father of afamily. Released from the cavalry on the great disbandment of 1815,the worthy fellow had succeeded his father, who for many years haddriven a coucou of capricious flight between Paris and Isle-Adam.Having married the daughter of a small inn-keeper, he enlarged hisbusiness, made it a regular service, and became noted for hisintelligence and a certain military precision. Active and decided inhis ways, Pierrotin (the name seems to have been a sobriquet)contrived to give, by the vivacity of his countenance, an expressionof sly shrewdness to his ruddy and weather-stained visage whichsuggested wit. He was not without that facility of speech which isacquired chiefly through "seeing life" and other countries. His voice,by dint of talking to his horses and shouting "Gare!" was rough; buthe managed to tone it down with the bourgeois. His clothing, like thatof all coachmen of the second class, consisted of stout boots, heavywith nails, made at Isle-Adam, trousers of bottle-green velveteen,waistcoat of the same, over which he wore, while exercising hisfunctions, a blue blouse, ornamented on the collar, shoulder-strapsand cuffs, with many-colored embroidery. A cap with a visor coveredhis head. His military career had left in Pierrotin's manners andcustoms a great respect for all social superiority, and a habit ofobedience to persons of the upper classes; and though he neverwillingly mingled with the lesser bourgeoisie, he always respectedwomen in whatever station of life they belonged. Nevertheless, by dintof "trundling the world,"--one of his own expressions,--he had come tolook upon those he conveyed as so many walking parcels, who requiredless care than the inanimate ones,--the essential object of a coachingbusiness.
Warned by the general movement which, since the Peace, wasrevolutionizing his calling, Pierrotin would not allow himself to beoutdone by the progress of new lights. Since the beginning of thesummer season he had talked much of a certain large coach, orderedfrom Farry, Breilmann, and Company, the best makers of diligences,--apurchase necessitated by an increasing influx of travellers.Pierrotin's present establishment consisted of two vehicles. One,which served in winter, and the only one he reported to the tax-gatherer, was the coucou which he inherited from his father. Therounded flanks of this vehicle allowed him to put six travellers ontwo seats, of metallic hardness in spite of the yellow Utrecht velvetwith which they were covered. These seats were separated by a woodenbar inserted in the sides of the carriage at the height of thetravellers' shoulders, which could be placed or removed at will. Thisbar, specially covered with velvet (Pierrotin called it "a back"), wasthe despair of the passengers, from the great difficulty they found inplacing and removing it. If the "back" was difficult and even painfulto handle, that was nothing to the suffering caused to the omoplateswhen the bar was in place. But when it was left to lie loose acrossthe coach, it made both ingress and egress extremely perilous,especially to women.
Though each seat of this vehicle, with rounded sides like those of apregnant woman, could rightfully carry only three passengers, it wasnot uncommon to see eight persons on the two seats jammed togetherlike herrings in a barrel. Pierrotin declared that the travellers werefar more comfortable in a solid, immovable mass; whereas when onlythree were on a seat they banged each other perpetually, and ran muchrisk of injuring their hats against the roof by the violent jolting ofthe roads. In front of the vehicle was a wooden bench where Pierrotinsat, on which three travellers could perch; when there, they went, aseverybody knows, by the name of "rabbits." On certain trips Pierrotinplaced four rabbits on the bench, and sat himself at the side, on asort of box placed below the body of the coach as a foot-rest for therabbits, which was always full of straw, or of packages that feared nodamage. The body of this particular coucou was painted yellow,embellished along the top with a band of barber's blue, on which couldbe read, on the sides, in silvery white letters, "Isle-Adam, Paris,"and across the back, "Line to Isle-Adam."
Our descendants will be mightily mistaken if they fancy that thirteenpersons including Pierrotin were all that this vehicle could carry. Ongreat occasions it could take three more in a square compartmentcovered with an awning, where the trunks, cases, and packages werepiled; but the prudent Pierrotin only allowed his regular customers tosit there, and even they were not allowed to get in until at somedistance beyond the "barriere." The occupants of the "hen-roost" (thename given by conductors to this section of their vehicles) were madeto get down outside of every village or town where there was a post ofgendarmerie; the overloading forbidden by law, "for the safety ofpassengers," being too obvious to allow the gendarme on duty--always afriend to Pierrotin--to avoid the necessity of reporting this flagrantviolation of the ordinances. Thus on certain Saturday nights andMonday mornings, Pierrotin's coucou "trundled" fifteen travellers; buton such occasions, in order to drag it along, he gave his stout oldhorse, called Rougeot, a mate in the person of a little beast nobigger than a pony, about whose merits he had much to say. This littlehorse was a mare named Bichette; she ate little, she was spirited, shewas indefatigable, she was worth her weight in gold.
"My wife wouldn't give her for that fat lazybones of a Rougeot!" criedPierrotin, when some traveller would joke him about his epitome of ahorse.
The difference between this vehicle and the other consisted chiefly inthe fact that the other was on four wheels. This coach, of comicalconstruction, called the "four-wheel-coach," held seventeentravellers, though it was bound not to carry more than fourteen. Itrumbled so noisily that the inhabitants of Isle-Adam frequently said,"Here comes Pierrotin!" when he was scarcely out of the forest whichcrowns the slope of the valley. It was divided into two lobes, so tospeak: one, called the "interior," contained six passengers on twoseats; the other, a sort of cabriolet constructed in front, was calledthe "coupe." This coupe was closed in with very inconvenient andfantastic glass sashes, a description of which would take too muchspace to allow of its being given here. The four-wheeled coach wassurmounted by a hooded "imperial," into which Pierrotin managed topoke six passengers; this space was inclosed by leather curtains.Pierrotin himself sat on an almost invisible seat perched just belowthe sashes of the coupe.
The master of the establishment paid the tax which was levied upon allpublic conveyances on his coucou only, which was rated to carry sixpersons; and he took out a special permit each time that he drove thefour-wheeler. This may seem extraordinary in these days, but when thetax on vehicles was first imposed, it was done very timidly, and suchdeceptions were easily practised by the coach proprietors, alwayspleased to "faire la queue" (cheat of their dues) the governmentofficials, to use the argot of their vocabulary. Gradually the greedyTreasury became severe; it forced all public conveyances not to rollunless they carried two certificates,--one showing that they had beenweighed, the other that their taxes were duly paid. All things havetheir salad days, even the Treasury; and in 1822 those days stilllasted. Often in summer, the "four-wheel-coach," and the coucoujourneyed together, carrying between them thirty-two passengers,though Pierrotin was only paying a tax on six. On these speciallylucky days the convoy started from the faubourg Saint-Denis at half-past four o'clock in the afternoon, and arrived gallantly at Isle-Adamby ten at night. Proud of this service, which necessitated the hire ofan extra horse, Pierrotin was wont to say:--
"We went at a fine pace!"
But in order to do the twenty-seven miles in five hours with hiscaravan, he was forced to omit certain stoppages along the road,--atSaint-Brice, Moisselles, and La Cave.
The hotel du Lion d'Argent occupies a piece of land which is very deepfor its width. Though its frontage has only three or four windows onthe faubourg Saint-Denis, the building extends back through a longcourt-yard, at the end of which are the stables, forming a large housestanding close against the division wall of the adjoining property.The entrance is through a sort of passage-way beneath the floor of thesecond story, in which two or three coaches had room to stand. In 1822the offices of all the lines of coaches which started from the Liond'Argent were kept by the wife of the inn-keeper, who had as manybooks as there were lines. She received the fares, booked thepassengers, and stowed away, good-naturedly, in her vast kitchen thevarious packages and parcels to be transported. Travellers weresatisfied with this easy-going, patriarchal system. If they arrivedtoo soon, they seated themselves beneath the hood of the huge kitchenchimney, or stood within the passage-way, or crossed to the Cafe del'Echiquier, which forms the corner of the street so named.
In the early days of the autumn of 1822, on a Saturday morning,Pierrotin was standing, with his hands thrust into his pockets throughthe apertures of his blouse, beneath the porte-cochere of the Liond'Argent, whence he could see, diagonally, the kitchen of the inn, andthrough the long court-yard to the stables, which were defined inblack at the end of it. Daumartin's diligence had just started,plunging heavily after those of the Touchards. It was past eighto'clock. Under the enormous porch or passage, above which could beread on a long sign, "Hotel du Lion d'Argent," stood the stablemen andporters of the coaching-lines watching the lively start of thevehicles which deceives so many travellers, making them believe thatthe horses will be kept to that vigorous gait.
"Shall I harness up, master?" asked Pierrotin's hostler, when therewas nothing more to be seen along the road.
"It is a quarter-past eight, and I don't see any travellers," repliedPierrotin. "Where have they poked themselves? Yes, harness up all thesame. And there are no parcels either! Twenty good Gods! a fine daylike this, and I've only four booked! A pretty state of things for aSaturday! It is always the same when you want money! A dog's life, anda dog's business!"
"If you had more, where would you put them? There's nothing left butthe cabriolet," said the hostler, intending to soothe Pierrotin.
"You forget the new coach!" cried Pierrotin.
"Have you really got it?" asked the man, laughing, and showing a setof teeth as white and broad as almonds.
"You old good-for-nothing! It starts to-morrow, I tell you; and I wantat least eighteen passengers for it."
"Ha, ha! a fine affair; it'll warm up the road," said the hostler.
"A coach like that which runs to Beaumont, hey? Flaming! painted redand gold to make Touchard burst with envy! It takes three horses! Ihave bought a mate for Rougeot, and Bichette will go finely inunicorn. Come, harness up!" added Pierrotin, glancing out towards thestreet, and stuffing the tobacco into his clay pipe. "I see a lady andlad over there with packages under their arms; they are coming to theLion d'Argent, for they've turned a deaf ear to the coucous. Tiens,tiens! seems to me I know that lady for an old customer."
"You've often started empty, and arrived full," said his porter, stillby way of consolation.
"But no parcels! Twenty good Gods! What a fate!"
And Pierrotin sat down on one of the huge stone posts which protectedthe walls of the building from the wheels of the coaches; but he didso with an anxious, reflective air that was not habitual with him.
This conversation, apparently insignificant, had stirred up cruelanxieties which were slumbering in his breast. What could there be totrouble the heart of Pierrotin in a fine new coach? To shine upon "theroad," to rival the Touchards, to magnify his own line, to carrypassengers who would compliment him on the conveniences due to theprogress of coach-building, instead of having to listen to perpetualcomplaints of his "sabots" (tires of enormous width),--such wasPierrotin's laudable ambition; but, carried away with the desire tooutstrip his comrade on the line, hoping that the latter might someday retire and leave to him alone the transportation to Isle-Adam, hehad gone too far. The coach was indeed ordered from Barry, Breilmann,and Company, coach-builders, who had just substituted square Englishsprings for those called "swan-necks," and other old-fashioned Frenchcontrivances. But these hard and distrustful manufacturers would onlydeliver over the diligence in return for coin. Not particularlypleased to build a vehicle which would be difficult to sell if itremained upon their hands, these long-headed dealers declined toundertake it at all until Pierrotin had made a preliminary payment oftwo thousand francs. To satisfy this precautionary demand, Pierrotinhad exhausted all his resources and all his credit. His wife, hisfather-in-law, and his friends had bled. This superb diligence he hadbeen to see the evening before at the painter's; all it needed now wasto be set a-rolling, but to make it roll, payment in full must, alas!be made.
Now, a thousand francs were lacking to Pierrotin, and where to getthem he did not know. He was in debt to the master of the Liond'Argent; he was in danger of his losing his two thousand francsalready paid to the coach-builder, not counting five hundred for themate to Rougeot, and three hundred for new harnesses, on which he hada three-months' credit. Driven by the fury of despair and the madnessof vanity, he had just openly declared that the new coach was to starton the morrow. By offering fifteen hundred francs, instead of the twothousand five hundred still due, he was in hopes that the softenedcarriage-builders would give him his coach. But after a few moments'meditation, his feelings led him to cry out aloud:--
"No! they're dogs! harpies! Suppose I appeal to Monsieur Moreau, thesteward at Presles? he is such a kind man," thought Pierrotin, struckwith a new idea. "Perhaps he would take my note for six months."
At this moment a footman in livery, carrying a leather portmanteau andcoming from the Touchard establishment, where he had gone too late tosecure places as far as Chambly, came up and said:--
"Are you Pierrotin?"
"Say on," replied Pierrotin.
"If you would wait a quarter of an hour, you could take my master. Ifnot, I'll carry back the portmanteau and try to find some otherconveyance."
"I'll wait two, three quarters, and throw a little in besides, mylad," said Pierrotin, eyeing the pretty leather trunk, well buckled,and bearing a brass plate with a coat of arms.
"Very good; then take this," said the valet, ridding his shoulder ofthe trunk, which Pierrotin lifted, weighed, and examined.
"Here," he said to his porter, "wrap it up carefully in soft hay andput it in the boot. There's no name upon it," he added.
"Monseigneur's arms are there," replied the valet.
"Monseigneur! Come and take a glass," said Pierrotin, nodding towardthe Cafe de l'Echiquier, whither he conducted the valet. "Waiter, twoabsinthes!" he said, as he entered. "Who is your master? and where ishe going? I have never seen you before," said Pierrotin to the valetas they touched glasses.
"There's a good reason for that," said the footman. "My master onlygoes into your parts about once a year, and then in his own carriage.He prefers the valley d'Orge, where he has the most beautiful park inthe neighborhood of Paris, a perfect Versailles, a family estate ofwhich he bears the name. Don't you know Monsieur Moreau?"
"The steward of Presles?"
"Yes. Monsieur le Comte is going down to spend a couple of days withhim."
"Ha! then I'm to carry Monsieur le Comte de Serizy!" cried the coach-proprietor.
"Yes, my land, neither more nor less. But listen! here's a specialorder. If you have any of the country neighbors in your coach you arenot to call him Monsieur le comte; he wants to travel 'en cognito,'and told me to be sure to say he would pay a handsome pourboire if hewas not recognized."
"So! Has this secret journey anything to do with the affair which PereLeger, the farmer at the Moulineaux, came to Paris the other day tosettle?"
"I don't know," replied the valet, "but the fat's in the fire. Lastnight I was sent to the stable to order the Daumont carriage to beready to go to Presles at seven this morning. But when seven o'clockcame, Monsieur le comte countermanded it. Augustin, his valet dechambre, attributes the change to the visit of a lady who called lastnight, and again this morning,--he thought she came from the country."
"Could she have told him anything against Monsieur Moreau?--the bestof men, the most honest of men, a king of men, hey! He might have madea deal more than he has out of his position, if he'd chosen; I cantell you that."
"Then he was foolish," answered the valet, sententiously.
"Is Monsieur le Serizy going to live at Presles at last?" askedPierrotin; "for you know they have just repaired and refurnished thechateau. Do you think it is true he has already spent two hundredthousand francs upon it?"
"If you or I had half what he has spent upon it, you and I would berich bourgeois. If Madame la comtesse goes there--ha! I tell you what!no more ease and comfort for the Moreaus," said the valet, with an airof mystery.
"He's a worthy man, Monsieur Moreau," remarked Pierrotin, thinking ofthe thousand francs he wanted to get from the steward. "He is a manwho makes others work, but he doesn't cheapen what they do; and hegets all he can out of the land--for his master. Honest man! He oftencomes to Paris and gives me a good fee: he has lots of errands for meto do in Paris; sometimes three or four packages a day,--either frommonsieur or madame. My bill for cartage alone comes to fifty francs amonth, more or less. If madame does set up to be somebody, she's fondof her children; and it is I who fetch them from school and take themback; and each time she gives me five francs,--a real great ladycouldn't do better than that. And every time I have any one in thecoach belonging to them or going to see them, I'm allowed to drive upto the chateau,--that's all right, isn't it?"
"They say Monsieur Moreau wasn't worth three thousand francs whenMonsieur le comte made him steward of Presles," said the valet.
"Well, since 1806, there's seventeen years, and the man ought to havemade something at any rate."
"True," said the valet, nodding. "Anyway, masters are very annoying;and I hope, for Moreau's sake, that he has made butter for his bread."
"I have often been to your house in the rue de la Chaussee d'Antin tocarry baskets of game," said Pierrotin, "but I've never had theadvantage, so far of seeing either monsieur or madame."
"Monsieur le comte is a good man," said the footman, confidentially."But if he insists on your helping to keep up his cognito there'ssomething in the wind. At any rate, so we think at the house; or else,why should he countermand the Daumont,--why travel in a coucou? A peerof France might afford to hire a cabriolet to himself, one wouldthink."
"A cabriolet would cost him forty francs to go there and back; for letme tell you, if you don't know it, that road was only made forsquirrels,--up-hill and down, down-hill and up!" said Pierrotin. "Peerof France or bourgeois, they are all looking after the main chance,and saving their money. If this journey concerns Monsieur Moreau,faith, I'd be sorry any harm should come to him! Twenty good Gods!hadn't I better find some way of warning him?--for he's a truly goodman, a kind man, a king of men, hey!"
"Pooh! Monsieur le comte thinks everything of Monsieur Moreau,"replied the valet. "But let me give you a bit of good advice. Everyman for himself in this world. We have enough to do to take care ofourselves. Do what Monsieur le comte asks you to do, and all the morebecause there's no trifling with him. Besides, to tell the truth, thecount is generous. If you oblige him so far," said the valet, pointinghalf-way down his little finger, "he'll send you on as far as that,"stretching out his arm to its full length.
This wise reflection, and the action that enforced it, had the effect,coming from a man who stood as high as second valet to the Comte deSerizy, of cooling the ardor of Pierrotin for the steward of Presles.
"Well, adieu, Monsieur Pierrotin," said the valet.
A glance rapidly cast on the life of the Comte de Serizy, and on thatof his steward, is here necessary in order to fully understand thelittle drama now about to take place in Pierrotin's vehicle.