A second peal of the bell, even more violent than the first, resounded in the tiny hall.
Herminie dried her eyes, summoned up all her courage, and, pale and trembling, went to open the door.
She had not been deceived.
It was M. Bouffard.
This glorious representative of the nation had laid aside the uniform of a citizen soldier and donned a gray sack coat.
"Well, have you my money ready?" he demanded, roughly, planting himself on the threshold of the door the girl had opened for him with such an unsteady hand.
"But, monsieur—"
"Do you intend to pay me, yes or no?" exclaimed M. Bouffard, in such a loud voice that the question was overheard by two other persons.
One was then standing under the porte-cochère. The other was mounting the staircase which started close to the entrance to Herminie's apartments.
"I ask you for the last time, will you pay me? Answer me, yes or no!" repeated M. Bouffard, in even louder and more threatening tones.