"Ha! Monsieur Jacques, you did kick the Englishman in the eye?" inquired my employer; "and what for did you kick the Englishman in the eye?"
"Because he used undue familiarity towards Mademoiselle," said Jacques, doggedly.
Le Chauve glanced suspiciously first at me then at his daughter, but Pauline, stung at Jacques' mean attempt at exposing me as well as herself to her father's obloquy, rose in all the pride of injured womanhood, as if to take the whole burden of defence upon herself, and standing erect with compressed lips and white with passion, cried,
"It is false, 'tis a base lie! The Englishman never treated me otherwise than with the greatest respect, nor have I ever received at his hands any of those attentions that in my indulgence I have permitted from yourself. Think not, however, Master Jacques, that this calumny will serve your turn, or that I am blind to the paltry motives that prompted it. Your absurd jealousy is seen through, and has met with its just chastisement. What was it to you, I pray, even if the Englishman had paid me attention? Must you be the only one to pay me attention? You know very well that I have never granted you any right to monopolise me, however your conceit may have deluded you. Beware, therefore, in future how you attempt to calumniate either myself or this Englishman, for as sure as you are born you will not succeed in your scheme, and know, once for all, Monsieur Jacques Millefleurs, that for the future I wish all those attentions that you have been pleased to lavish upon me so profusely whenever my father's back was turned, to cease. Respect me as your employer's daughter, for I vow never to be anything more to you."
She ceased; but during her harangue, Pauline's deportment was majestic—it was sublime. No longer was she the little grisette with the cock-nose and the wide mouth, but a tragedy queen pronouncing a malediction. She appeared now at least half a head taller, so imposing was her attitude. The roses and smile had deserted her countenance, and were supplanted by a ghastly pallor, while from her dark eyes flashed a withering scorn, under which Jacques appeared to quail like a whipped hound, but which feeling his natural pride sought to overcome.
Rage, grief, jealousy, and confusion struggled in his breast for the mastery, as he stood speechless, with clenched fists, teeth set, flushed face, and straining eyeballs fixed upon the ground, to which the tears would start spite of all his efforts to repress them. His hair disordered and dirty, as well as his clothes, from his fall, he looked altogether the very picture of maniacal despair.
"Ha! Jacques," said his employer, "is this true? What! have you dared to raise your eyes to my daughter, and that, too, behind my back, without my permission—hein?"
Jacques, overcome with shame and speechless, never lifted his eyes from the ground, whilst the large tears, blinding him and overflowing, fell heavily on the floor.
"Prenez garde, Monsieur Jacques," said Le Chauve, "for, parbleu! if I hear any more of these clandestine overtures with my daughter I'll discharge you on the spot. And you, too, Ma'meselle Pauline, you, too, were much to blame in not telling me at once of this boy's insolent pretensions. But, tell me once more, who began this ridiculous quarrel? Who gave the first blow?"
"Please, sir," said I, now speaking for the first time, "I was taking my French lesson with your daughter, when Monsieur Jacques was pleased to call me 'cochon,' and abused my country. I demanded an apology, which he refused, and before I was aware of it, kicked me in the eye. I gave one straight blow with my fist, comme ça"—(here I imitated the blow to show him how an Englishman could knock a Frenchman down)—"and he fell full length upon the floor."