Fraisier drew her back into his sanctum. "Look here, old lady, I know M. Trognon, the notary of the quarter, very well. If M. Pons has not a notary, mention M. Trognon to him. Make him take M. Trognon—"
"Right," returned La Cibot.
And as she came out again she heard the rustle of a dress and the sound of a stealthy, heavy footstep.
Out in the street and by herself, Mme. Cibot to some extent recovered her liberty of mind as she walked. Though the influence of the conversation was still upon her, and she had always stood in dread of scaffolds, justice, and judges, she took a very natural resolution which was to bring about a conflict of strategy between her and her formidable legal adviser.
"What do I want with other folk?" said she to herself. "Let us make a round sum, and afterwards I will take all that they offer me to push their interests;" and this thought, as will shortly be seen, hastened the poor old musician's end.
"Well, dear M. Schmucke, and how is our dear, adored patient?" asked La Cibot, as she came into the room.
"Fery pad; Bons haf peen vandering all der night."
"Then, what did he say?"
"Chust nonsense. He vould dot I haf all his fortune, on kondition dot I sell nodings.—Den he cried! Boor mann! It made me ver' sad."
"Never mind, honey," returned the portress. "I have kept you waiting for your breakfast; it is nine o'clock and past; but don't scold me. I have business on hand, you see, business of yours. Here are we without any money, and I have been out to get some."