Madame Plays did not choose to read any further; she crumpled the note in her hands, threw it on the floor, sprang quickly to her feet, glaring at Tobie with an expression he was utterly unable to understand, and said to him in a voice that trembled with anger:
"Do you know the contents of this letter, monsieur?"
"Do I know it! Why, certainly, dear lady; I dictated part of it to my friend."
"Ah! you dictated it, did you? Then you and your friend are a pair of low-lived curs!"
With that, Madame Plays dealt Tobie a blow that nailed him to his place in utter stupefaction; then, seizing her hat and shawl, which she hardly took time to put on, the wrathful beauty rushed from the room, not deigning to bestow a glance on the person she left there.
Poor Pigeonnier did not stir for several minutes, he was so paralyzed by what had happened to him. At last, he rose and began to pace the floor, crying:
"Ah! this is too much! a blow, because I handed her a letter of recommendation; a blow, when, just before, she had let me touch her knee, and—— It is inconceivable! And, with all the rest, I am out of pocket.—Waiter! waiter!"
The waiter appeared; the expression of his face was even more ironical than before. Tobie had four francs fifty centimes to pay. He paid it, sighing profoundly, and saying to himself:
"If only I can win it back at bouillotte!"
At that moment the showman began again, tapping the canvas with his stick: