"A cabriolet would cost him forty francs to go there and back; for let
me tell you, if you don't know it, that road was only made for
squirrels,--up-hill and down, down-hill and up!" said Pierrotin. "Peer
of 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 good
man, 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. Every
man for himself in this world. We have enough to do to take care of
ourselves. Do what Monsieur le comte asks you to do, and all the more
because there's no trifling with him. Besides, to tell the truth, the
count is generous. If you oblige him so far," said the valet, pointing
half-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 de
Serizy, 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 that
of his steward, is here necessary in order to fully understand the
little drama now about to take place in Pierrotin's vehicle.