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back to Paris.
Marius rushed headlong in that direction. On arriving
at the angle of the boulevard, he caught sight of the fiacre
again, rapidly descending the Rue Mouffetard; the carriage
was already a long way off, and there was no means of over-
taking it; what! run after it? Impossible; and besides, the
people in the carriage would assuredly notice an individual
running at full speed in pursuit of a fiacre, and the father
would recognize him. At that moment, wonderful and un-
precedented good luck, Marius perceived an empty cab
passing along the boulevard. There was but one thing to be
done, to jump into this cab and follow the fiacre. That was
sure, efficacious, and free from danger.
Marius made the driver a sign to halt, and called to
him:—
‘By the hour?’
Marius wore no cravat, he had on his working-coat,
which was destitute of buttons, his shirt was torn along one
of the plaits on the bosom.
The driver halted, winked, and held out his left hand to
Marius, rubbing his forefinger gently with his thumb.
‘What is it?’ said Marius.
‘Pay in advance,’ said the coachman.
Marius recollected that he had but sixteen sous about
him.
‘How much?’ he demanded.
‘Forty sous.’
‘I will pay on my return.’
The driver’s only reply was to whistle the air of La Palisse