The tastes and inclinations of brawlers were no concern of his.

He had business of State--however unworthy--to dispatch.

He turned, intending to demand of Monsieur Sanguinetti that they should engage at once and be done, when suddenly a fellow roughly dressed, with dirty face and a shock head of fair hair, pushed his way through the throng and advanced towards Monsieur Sanguinetti and his friends.

Garnache checked in his movement to look at the fellow, for he recognized in him the ostler of the Auberge de France: He spoke at that moment, and Garnache overheard the words he uttered.
"Monsieur Sanguinetti," said he, addressing that gentleman, "my master sends to inquire if you shall want the carriage you ordered for to-day.
It has been standing for an hour at the door of the Auberge de France, awaiting you, and if you don't want it--" "Standing where ?" asked Sanguinetti harshly.
"At the door of the Auberge de France." "Peste, fool!" cried the foreigner, "why is it there, when I bade it be sent to the Sucking Calf ?" "I don't know, sir.

I know no more than Monsieur l'Hote told me." "Now, a plague on Monsieur l'Hote," swore Sanguinetti, and in that moment his eye fell upon Garnache, standing there, attentive.