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He had been thinking of nothing else since the begin-
ning of the conversation, but he did not know why he had
not dared to put the question.
‘Are your horse’s forelegs good?’ said M. Madeleine.
‘Yes, Monsieur le Maire. You must hold him in a little
when going down hill. Are there many descends between
here and the place whither you are going?’
‘Do not forget to be at my door at precisely half-past four
o’clock to-morrow morning,’ replied M. Madeleine; and he
took his departure.
The Fleming remained ‘utterly stupid,’ as he himself said
some time afterwards.
The mayor had been gone two or three minutes when the
door opened again; it was the mayor once more.
He still wore the same impassive and preoccupied air.
‘Monsieur Scaufflaire,’ said he, ‘at what sum do you esti-
mate the value of the horse and tilbury which you are to let
to me,— the one bearing the other?’
‘The one dragging the other, Monsieur le Maire,’ said the
Fleming, with a broad smile.
‘So be it. Well?’
‘Does Monsieur le Maire wish to purchase them or me?’
‘No; but I wish to guarantee you in any case. You shall
give me back the sum at my return. At what value do you
estimate your horse and cabriolet?’
‘Five hundred francs, Monsieur le Maire.’
‘Here it is.’
M. Madeleine laid a bank-bill on the table, then left the
room; and this time he did not return.