"How!" cried Dominique, folding his arms with the most disdainful air imaginable; "is it for such a miserable trifle that you come to crack my ears with your frightful chatter,—for this that you come to torment the Marquis? Do you forget that once all the cities of Greece were disputing the honor of offering their services to Alcibiades, that the Ephesians pitched his tents? that the men of Chios fed his horses? that the Lesbians supplied his tables? and all gratis, do you understand, gratis; all, only that they might have the honor of offering something to Alcibiades? And you, you miserable workwoman, for three hundred insignificant livres, not the tenth part of a talent! for a paltry sum owed you by the Marquis, my pupil, who is, or who will be, a very different person from Alcibiades, you come screeching here like an osprey! But, you old fool, you may, on the contrary, bless the day when my pupil deigned to cast his eye on your ignoble workshop! Remember, also, that the shoe-maker of Athens, who had the good luck to work for Alcibiades, made more money in a year than you will gain in your whole miserable life. Do you hear that?"

Madelaine Landry, seeing the rage of this big man wrapped in a coverlet, thought herself in the presence of a lunatic.

"But at any rate you have brought the coat that the Marquis did your husband the honor to order," resumed Dominique. "Take good care that he redoubles his diligence and dexterity to perfect this garment, for on it depends all his future business prosperity; and if it suits my pupil, your husband's fortune is made . . . Come, let's see the coat!" And Dominique advanced gravely towards Madelaine.

She rose hastily from her chair, resolved to jump at the eyes of the maniac, as she thought him.

"Don't come near me, or I will hit you over the head with my umbrella!" she cried.

"You are a fool, my dear woman . . . Who thinks of hurting you? So you have not brought the coat?" he continued, in a milder tone.

"What! have I brought the coat?—impudence!" said Madelaine, a little gaining courage,—"certainly not; I have not brought it; and it is no fault of mine that your pupil has on his back the one that my fool of a husband sold him, and for which I come to be paid; for, I repeat it, I am not going away until I am paid . . . If I am not paid, there is yet, God be thanked, such a place as the lock-up to put rogues into . . . When one hasn't the wherewith to pay for fine clothes, Marquis though he may be, he ought to wear coarse clothes, and not steal the time and goods of poor working-people."

At this moment light steps were heard ascending the stairs.

"That is the Marquis!" said Dominique.

"Ah! now we shall have good sport," cried Dame Madelaine.