s the fire."

Ah! what fortitude! Ah, what superiority of intellectual strength!
Truly, a proud and noble character that I describe in the supposed words
of Monsieur, the uncle. Ha, ha, ha! Death of my soul, I love the sweet
lady!'

Mrs Clennam's face had changed. There was a remarkable darkness of
colour on it, and the brow was more contracted. 'Madame, madame,' said
Rigaud, tapping her on the arm, as if his cruel hand were sounding a
musical instrument, 'I perceive I interest you. I perceive I awaken your
sympathy. Let us go on.'

The drooping nose and the ascending moustache had, however, to be hidden
for a moment with the white hand, before he could go on; he enjoyed the
effect he made so much.

'The nephew, being, as the lucid Madame Flintwinch has remarked, a poor
devil who has had everything but his orphan life frightened and famished
out of him--the nephew abases his head, and makes response: "My uncle,
it is to you to command. Do as you will!" Monsieur, the uncle, does as
he will. It is what he always does. The auspicious nuptials take place;
the newly married come home to this charming mansion; the lady is
received, let us suppose, by Flintwinch. Hey, old intriguer?'

Jeremiah, with his eyes upon his mistress, made no reply. Rigaud looked
from one to the other, struck his ugly nose, and made a clucking with
his tongue.

'Soon the lady makes a singular and exciting discovery. Thereupon,
full of anger, full of jealousy, full of vengeance, she forms--see you,
madame!--a scheme of retribution, the weight of which she ingeniously
forces her crushed husband to bear himself, as well as execute upon her
enemy. What superior intelligence!'

'Keep off, Jeremiah!' cried the palpitating Affery, taking her apron
from her mouth again. 'But it was one of my dreams, that you told her,
when you quarrelled with her one winter evening at dusk--there she sits
and you looking at her--that she oughtn't to have let Arthur when he
come home, suspect his father only; that she had always had the strength
and the power; and that she ought to have stood up more to Arthur, for
his father. It was in the same dream where you said to her that she was
not--not something, but I don't know what, for she burst out tremendous
and stopped you. You know the dream as well as I do. When you come
down-stairs into the kitchen with the candle in your hand, and hitched
my apron off my head. When you told me I had been dreaming. When you
wouldn't