It was a dark narrow street; no one seemed stirring, and Harry peered anxiously through the darkness for the figure of Jacques.

Presently he heard a low whistle, and a figure appeared from a doorway.

Harry at once checked the horse.
"What is it ?" Lebat asked, putting his head out of the window.
Harry got off the box, and going to the window said in a drunken voice: "I want my fare.

There is a cabaret only just ahead, and I want a glass before I go further.

My feet are pretty well frozen." "Drive on, you drunken rascal," Lebat said furiously, "or it will be worse for you." "Don't you speak in that way to me, citizen," Harry said hoarsely.
"One man's as good as another in these days, and if you talk like that to me I will break your head in spite of your red sash." With an exclamation of rage Lebat sprang from the coach, and as his foot touched the ground Harry threw his arms round him; but as he did so he trod upon some of the filth which so thickly littered the thoroughfare, and slipped.