ad not killed her when I took her by the
throat. She added that no doubt I had made up my mind to visit her no
more, but she hoped I would allow her one interview as she had an
important communication to make to me. There was also a note from Goudar,
saying that he wanted to speak to me, and that he would come at noon. I
gave orders that he should be admitted.

This curious individual began by astonishing me; he told me the whole
story of what had taken place, the mother having been his informant.

"The Charpillon," he added, "has not got a fever, but is covered with
bruises. What grieves the old woman most is that she has not got the
hundred guineas."

"She would have had them the next morning," I said, "if her daughter had
been tractable."

"Her mother had made her swear that she would not be tractable, and you
need not hope to possess her without the mother's consent."

"Why won't she consent?"

"Because she thinks that you will abandon the girl as soon as you have
enjoyed her."

"Possibly, but she would have received many valuable presents, and now
she is abandoned and has nothing."

"Have you made up your mind not to have anything more to do with her?"

"Quite."

"That's your wisest plan, and I advise you to keep to it, nevertheless I
want to shew you something which will surprise you. I will be back in a
moment."

He returned, followed by a porter, who carried up an arm-chair covered
with a cloth. As soon as we were alone, Goudar took off the covering and
asked me if I would buy it.

"What should I do with it? It is not a very attractive piece of
furniture."

"Nevertheless, the price of it is a hundred guineas."

"I would not give three."

"This arm-chair has five springs, which come into play all at once as
soon as anyone sits down in it. Two springs catch the two arms and hold
them tightly, two others separate the legs, and the fifth lifts up the
seat."

After this description Goudar sat down quite naturally in the chair and
the springs came into play and forced him into the position of a woman in
labour.

"Get the fair Charpillon to sit in this chair," said he, "and your
business is done."

I could not help laughing at the contrivance, which struck me as at once
ingenious and diabolical, but I could not make up my mind to avail myself
of it.

"I won't buy it," said I, "but I shall be obliged if you will leave it
here till to-morrow."

"I can't leave it here an hour unless you will b