"The devil! Well, then, Madame Lacombe," resumed the stranger with mock deference, "I shall first tell you who I am, and then proceed to explain what I want."
"Go on."
"I am called Commander de La Miraudière, an old military officer, as you see," pointing to the red ribbon on his coat, "ten campaigns and five wounds!"
"That's nothing to me. And then?"
"I have the most brilliant acquaintances in Paris: dukes, counts, marquises—"
"What's that to me?"
"I keep a carriage, and spend at least twenty thousand francs a year."
"While my god-daughter and myself are starving on twenty sous per day—that is, when she can earn them!" exclaimed the invalid bitterly. "Such is the justice of the world!"
"No! it is not justice!" protested the commander. "It is not just, and
I am here to put an end to such injustice!"
"If you are here to laugh at me," rejoined the woman, with an ominous scowl, "you had better go."