"_Diligenza compito!_" cries the clerk, moving toward the waiting
cabriolet--"Signore Hugenoto."
"Here!" replies a small, consequential-looking person, reconnoitring the
interior of the vehicle.
"Le Signore Plaedo!"
"Ci," responds a dark, erect gentleman, striding forward and saying, in
clear Italian, "Are there no other passengers?"
"None," answered the clerk; "you will have a good time together; please
remember the guard!"
The guard, however, was in advance, a tall person, wrapped to the eyes
in fur, wearing a silver bugle in front of his cap, and covered with
buff breeches.
He flourished his whip like a fencing-master, moved in a cloud of
cigar-smoke, and, as he placed his bare hand upon the manes of his
horses, they reined back, as if it burned or frosted them.
"My ancestry," says the small gentleman, "encourage no imposition. Shall
we give the fellow a franc?"
The other had already given double the sum, and it was odd, now that one
looked at him, how pale and hard had grown his features.
"God bless me, Andy!" cries the little person, stopping short; "you have
not had your breakfast to-day; apply my smelling-bottle to your nose;
you are sick, man!"
"Thank you," says the other, "I prefer brandy; I am only glad that we
are quite alone.
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