"Let us step inside and I will then answer your question," said the marquis, in an authoritative manner that rather awed Madame Barbançon; besides, she was very anxious to hear the particulars of Madame de Beaumesnil's death.
"And you say that Madame de Beaumesnil is dead?" exclaimed the housekeeper, as soon as they had entered the house.
"She died several days ago—the very next day after her interview with you."
"What, monsieur, you know?"
"I know that Madame de Beaumesnil had a long conversation with you, and I am fulfilling her last wishes in asking you to accept these twenty-five napoleons from her."
And the hunchback showed Madame Barbançon a small silk purse filled with shining gold.
The words "twenty-five napoleons" grievously offended the housekeeper's ears. Had the marquis said twenty-five louis the effect would probably have been entirely different.
So instead of taking the proffered gold, Madame Barbançon, feeling all her former doubts revive, answered majestically, as she waved aside the purse with an expression of superb disdain:
"I do not accept napoleons," accenting the detested name strongly; "no, I do not accept napoleons from the first person that happens to come along—without knowing—do you understand, monsieur?"
"Without knowing what, my dear madame?"