She could not prevent him from kissing her hand, she could not refrain from laughing when, outside the room, he tried to kiss Madame Marie.

She was astounded, however, an hour later, to see him still at the inn door, marching up and down, a whip in his hand.

She looked at him reproachfully, indignantly.
"Why are you not on the way ?" she asked.
"Your man, that M'sieu' Havel, has rode on; I am to drive," he said.
"Yes, Madame, it is my everlasting honour that I am to drive you.

Havel has a good horse, the horse has a good rider, you have a good servant in me.

I, Madame, have a good mistress in you--I am content.