"Well, that's fair enough," said Rouget, glancing at Flore.
"A-mer-i-ca!" she ejaculated, sobbing.
"It is better to kick his legs about in a free country than have them rot in a pine box in France. However, perhaps you think he is a good shot, and can kill me; it's on the cards," observed the colonel.
"Will you let me speak to him?" said Flore, imploring Philippe in a humble and submissive tone.
"Certainly; he can come here and pack up his things. I will stay with my uncle during that time; for I shall not leave the old man again," replied Philippe.
"Vedie," cried Flore, "run to the hotel, and tell Monsieur Gilet that
I beg him—"
"—to come and get his belongings," said Philippe, interrupting Flore's message.
"Yes, yes, Vedie; that will be a good pretext to see me; I must speak to him."
Terror controlled her hatred; and the shock which her whole being experienced when she first encountered this strong and pitiless nature was now so overwhelming that she bowed before Philippe just as Rouget had been in the habit of bending before her. She anxiously awaited Vedie's return. The woman brought a formal refusal from Max, who requested Mademoiselle Brazier to send his things to the hotel de la Poste.
"Will you allow me to take them to him?" she said to Jean-Jacques
Rouget.