"Perhaps he would take my note for six months." At this moment a footman in livery, carrying a leather portmanteau and coming from the Touchard establishment, where he had gone too late to secure 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.
If not, I'll carry back the portmanteau and try to find some other conveyance." "I'll wait two, three quarters, and throw a little in besides, my lad," 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 of the trunk, which Pierrotin lifted, weighed, and examined.
"Here," he said to his porter, "wrap it up carefully in soft hay and put 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 toward the Cafe de l'Echiquier, whither he conducted the valet.

"Waiter, two absinthes!" he said, as he entered.

"Who is your master?
and where is he going?
I have never seen you before," said Pierrotin to the valet as they touched glasses.
"There's a good reason for that," said the footman.

"My master only goes into your parts about once a year, and then in his own carriage.