Monsieur Jonquelle by Melville Davisson Post

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    The Viscount came forward with expressions of regret. Now that he was using Monsieur Jonquelle for his own ends, he could afford to be good-humored. One would have said that thetemperaments of the two men had changed about. The Prefect was now irascible and the Viscount suave.
    â€œToo bad!” the latter continued to say. “Perhaps you can get a pair from the innkeeper.”
    â€œNo such luck,” replied the Prefect; “but if by chance there is a
horloger
in this village I might get a lens put in without delay.”
    â€œThere is one at the end of the street,” said the Viscount. “I will show you.” And he began to walk toward the sign of the gilded watch that the Prefect had marked from the terrace of the château.
    The Prefect followed. He walked rapidly, like one dominated by ill temper.
    â€œMonsieur,” said the little workman when the two men were come into the shop, “a lens like this is not to be had outside of Paris.” And he turned the goggles about, shaking his head.
    â€œWell,” snapped the Prefect, “you can put in a piece of window glass then—it will keep the dust out of my eye.”
    â€œ
Oui
, Monsieur,” replied the workman; “I can do that.”
    He measured the eyepiece, cut out a disk of glass and fitted it quickly into the rim. He worked swiftly and with little nervous glances at the Prefect. When he had finished MonsieurJonquelle threw a five-franc piece on the watch case and the two men returned to the inn.
    The engine spun under the touch of the electric button and the great gray car glided out of the village, Monsieur Jonquelle driving and the Viscount in the seat beside him. They had taken the second crossing into the Rouen Road when Monsieur Jonquelle turned to his companion like one sharply seized with an important memory.
    â€œ
Diable
!” he said. “I think only of myself!” And putting up his free hand he unhooked his goggles and handed them to the Viscount. “Pardon, Monsieur,” he said, “I had forgotten your injured eye. These will at least keep out the dust.” The Viscount began to refuse, saying there was little dust and that he was in no discomfort; but the Prefect would not hear him.
    â€œI have always heard that when one eye is lost the other is more susceptible to strain,” he continued as he helped the Viscount to adjust the goggles; “and it is this brilliant sun on the white road that plays the devil with one’s sight.…
Voilà
! We have the green lens over monsieur’s sound eye! That was a lucky accident to break the left glass. Monsieur le Vicomte will be protected in both eyes from the dust and in his good eye from the glare of the road.… And now,
ma beauté
!” And he pressed his foot on the throttle. The car shot out like a racer under alash and the hedges along the roadside leaped backward.
    The car traveled without any sound except a low hum as of a distant beehive. It gained speed like an arrow and the dust trailed behind in a long rolling cloud. They traveled swiftly on the white road in the brilliant sun.
    It was at the beginning of a long descent toward Paris that Monsieur Jonquelle began to have trouble with his brakes, and he ducked down among his levers to see what the trouble was. As he took a turning on the steep hill, with his head a moment among his nest of levers, he called suddenly to his companion: “Is there a signal before us?”
    â€œYes,” replied the Viscount.
    The Prefect sat up, with a volley of Parisian oaths, turned the car into the hill and, braking with a twist of the front wheel, stopped against a signpost by the road a hundred meters from the curve.
    â€œ
Nom d’un chien
!” he cried. “Does the Department of Highways believe itself to conduct a tram that it puts up a signal like that!”
    â€œWhat’s the matter with it?” said the Viscount. “The letter A