With that great discovery Madame Quinson burst into my room in high dudgeon. She threw herself on a chair, and when she had recovered her breath she loaded me with insulting words, and ended by telling me that I must marry her daughter. At this intimation, understanding her object and wishing to cut the matter short, I told her that I was already married in Italy.
“Then why did you come here and get my daughter with child?”
“I can assure you that I did not mean to do so. Besides, how do you know that I am the father of the child?”
“Mimi says so, and she is certain of it.”
“I congratulate her; but I warn you, madam, that I am ready to swear that I have not any certainty about it.”
“What then?”
“Then nothing. If she is pregnant, she will be confined.”
She went downstairs, uttering curses and threats: the next day I was summoned before the commissary of the district. I obeyed the summons, and found Madame Quinson fully equipped for the battle. The commissary, after the preliminary questions usual in all legal cases, asked me whether I admitted myself guilty towards the girl Quinson of the injury of which the mother, there present personally, complained.
“Monsieur le Commissaire, I beg of you to write word by word the answer which I am going to give you.”
“Very well.”