After a pause, accompanied by a grievous sigh, Alfred went on with his story:
"During this scandalous spoliation, I raised my eyes, and saw looking through the window of the lodge the infernal face of Cabrion, with his beard and pointed hat. He laughed, he was hideous! To escape this odious vision, I shut my eyes. When I opened them again, all had disappeared. I found myself on my chair, my head uncovered, and completely devastated! You see, sir, Cabrion has gained his end by force of cunning, audacity, and obstinacy; and by what means! He wished to make me pass for his friend; he began by putting up a notice here that we would carry on a friendly trade together. Not content with that, at this very moment my name is connected with his on all the walls of the capital. There is not, at this moment, an inhabitant of Paris who can have any doubt of my intimacy with this wretch; he wished some of my hair, he has it; all thanks to the impudent exactions of these brazen sirens. Now, sir, you must see, there only remains for me a flight from France—ma belle France! where I thought to live and die."
Alfred threw himself backward on his bed, and clasped his hands.
"But just the contrary, old darling; now that he has your hair, he will leave you quiet."
"Leave me quiet!" cried Pipelet, with a convulsive start; "but you do not know him; he is insatiable. Now who knows what he will next want from me?"
Rigolette, appearing at the entrance of the lodge, put an end to the lamentations.
"Do not enter, mademoiselle!" cried Pipelet, faithful to his habits of chaste susceptibility. "I am in bed." So saying, he drew one of the sheets to his chin. Rigolette stopped discreetly at the threshold.
"I was just going to see you, neighbor," said Rudolph to her. "Will you wait one moment?" Then, addressing Anastasia, "Do not forget to conduct Cecily to-night to M. Ferrand's."
"Be tranquil, my prince of lodgers; at seven o'clock she shall be installed there. Now that Madame Morel can walk, I will ask her to stay in the lodge, for Alfred would not, for an empire, remain alone."
The rosy cheeks of Rigolette had become paler and paler; her charming face, until now so fresh, so round, had lengthened a little; her piquant countenance, ordinarily so animated and lively, was become serious and still more sad since the last interview between the grisette and Fleur-de-Marie at the gate of the prison of Saint Lazare.