At the moment when the two neighbours were passing by the door of the porter's lodge they saw M. Pipelet, who, with his arms hanging down, was advancing towards them from the bottom of the passage, holding in one hand the sign which announced his Partnership of Friendship with Cabrion, and in the other the portrait of the confounded painter. Alfred's despair was so overwhelming that his chin touched his breast, so that the wide crown of his bell-shaped hat was easily seen. Seeing him thus, with his head lowered, coming towards Rodolph and Rigolette, he might have been compared to a ram, or a brave Breton, preparing for combat.
Anastasie soon appeared on the threshold of the lodge, and exclaimed, at her husband's appearance:
"Well, dearest old boy, here you are! And what did the commissary say to you? Alfred, Alfred, mind what you're doing, or you'll poke your head against my king of lodgers. Excuse him, M. Rodolph. It is that vagabond of a Cabrion, who uses him worse and worse. He'll certainly turn my dear old darling into a donkey! Alfred, love, speak to me!"
At this voice, so dear to his heart, M. Pipelet raised his head. His features were impressed with a bitter agony.
"What did the commissary say to you?" inquired Anastasie.
"Anastasie, we must collect the few things we possess, embrace our friends, pack up our trunk, and expatriate ourselves from Paris,—from France,—from my beautiful France; for now, assured of impunity, the monster is capable of pursuing me everywhere, throughout the length and breadth of the departments of the kingdom."
"What, the commissary?"
"The commissary," exclaimed M. Pipelet, with fierce indignation,—"the commissary laughed in my teeth!"
"At you,—a man of mature age, with an air so respectable that you would appear as silly as a goose if one did not know your virtues?"
"Well, notwithstanding that, when I had respectfully deposed in his presence my mass of complaints and vexations against that infernal Cabrion, the magistrate, after having looked and laughed—yes, laughed, and, I may add, laughed indecorously—at the sign and the portrait which I brought with me as corroborative testimony,—the magistrate replied, 'My good fellow, this Cabrion is a wag,—a practical joker. But pay no attention to his pleasantries. I advise you to laugh at him, and heartily, too, for really there is ample cause to do so.' 'To laugh at it, sir-r-r!' I exclaimed,—'to laugh at it, when grief consumes me,—when this scamp poisons my very existence; he placards me, and will drive me out of my wits. I demand that they imprison, exile the monster,—at least from my street!' At these words the commissary smiled, and politely pointed to the door. I understood the magistrate, sighed, and—and—here I am!"