"No, no," said he; "spite of the wrongs he has done me, I would not, even if his life were in my power, 'demand his head!'"
"But I would! I would! I would!" vociferated the ferocious Anastasie. "If he had fifty heads, I would demand every one of them! I would not leave him one! But go along; make haste, Alfred, and set the commissary of police to work upon him."
"No," cried Alfred, "I desire not his blood; but I have a right to demand the perpetual imprisonment of this malicious being. My repose requires it,—my health peremptorily calls for it. The laws of my country must either grant me this reparation for all I have suffered, or I quit France. Yes, beautiful and beloved France! I turn my back on you for ever! And that is all an ungrateful nation would gain by neglecting to heal the wounds of my tortured mind;" and, bending beneath the weight of his grief, Alfred majestically quitted the lodge, like one of the ancient victims of all-conquering Fatality.
CHAPTER XIV.
CECILY.
Before we introduce the reader to the conversation between Madame Séraphin and Madame Pipelet, we must premise that Anastasie, without entertaining the very slightest suspicion of the virtue and piety of the notary, felt the greatest indignation at the severity manifested by him in the case both of Louise Morel and M. Germain; and, as a natural consequence, the angry porteress included Madame Séraphin in the same censure; but still, like a skilful politician, Madame Pipelet, for reasons we shall hereafter explain, concealed her dislike to the femme-de-charge under the appearance of the greatest cordiality. After having explicitly declared her extreme disapprobation of the conduct pursued by Cabrion, Madame Séraphin went on to say:
"By the way, what has become of M. Bradamanti Polidori? I wrote to him yesterday evening, but got no reply; this morning I came to see him, but he was not to be found. I trust I shall be more fortunate this time."
Madame Pipelet affected the most lively regret.