“Perhaps you are going to defend them?”
“Well, yes!” he exclaimed; “for what’s the cause of this display of fury?”
“But why is it that you don’t want to make them pay up? ‘Tis for fear of vexing your old flame—confess it!”
He felt an inclination to smash her head with the timepiece. Words failed him. He relapsed into silence.
Rosanette, as she walked up and down the room, continued:[280]
“I am going to hurl a writ at this Arnoux of yours. Oh! I don’t want your assistance. I’ll get legal advice.”
Three days later, Delphine rushed abruptly into the room where her mistress sat.
“Madame! madame! there’s a man here with a pot of paste who has given me a fright!”
Rosanette made her way down to the kitchen, and saw there a vagabond whose face was pitted with smallpox. Moreover, one of his
