e."

"And there we saw the rascal take his seat on the box beside the
driver."

"Just as the vehicle was set in motion Cabrion perceived me, turned
around, and cried,'Yours for ever! I go to return no more.' Thank
heaven! The loud blast of the guard's horn nearly drowned these familiar
and insulting words, as well as any others he might have intended to
utter. But I pity and forgive the wretched man,--I can afford to be
generous, for I am delivered from the bane and misery of my life."

"Depend upon it, M. Pipelet," said Rigolette, endeavouring to restrain a
loud fit of laughter,--"depend upon it, you will see him no more. But
listen to me, and I will tell you something I am sure you are ignorant
of and which it will be almost difficult for you to credit. What do you
think of our M. Rodolph not being what we took him for, but a prince in
disguise,--a royal highness!"

"Go along with you!" said Anastasie. "That is a joke!"

"Oh, but really," cried Rigolette, "I am not joking; it is as true
as--as--that I am married to my dear Germain."

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed Anastasie. "My king of lodgers a royal
highness! Oh, dear, here's a pretty go! And I asked him to mind the
lodge for me. Oh, pardon! Pardon! Pardon!" And then, carried away by the
excess of her reverence and regret for having so undervalued a prince,
though a disguised one, Madame Pipelet placed her cap on her head, as
though she imagined herself in the presence of royalty.

Alfred, on the contrary, manifested his respect for royalty in a manner
diametrically the reverse of the form adopted by his wife. Snatching off
his hat, that hat which had never before been seen to quit his head, he
commenced bowing to empty space, as though standing in the presence of
the august personage he apostrophised, while he exclaimed, "Have I,
then, been honoured by a visit from royalty? Has my poor lodge been so
far favoured? And to think of his illustrious eyes having seen me in my
bed, when driven thither by the vile conduct of Cabrion!"

At this moment Madame Georges, turning around, cried out:

"My children, the doctor comes."

Doctor Herbin, the individual alluded to, was a man of about the middle
age, with a countenance expressive of great kindness and benevolence,
united to extreme skill and penetration in discovering the extent of
malady with which his unfortunate patients were affected. His voice,
naturally harmonious, assumed a tone of gentle suavity wh