inst this woman who
had just insulted him, who spoke of blackmail and the police, and of
thrusting the miserable fellow out of doors, he told everything that he
knew; Marianne's neediness, her weariness, her loves, the Dujarrier
connection, the renting of the Hotel Vanda, the Vaudrey paper and its
renewals, his own foolishness as a too artless and tender, good sort of
fellow, relying on Claire Dujarrier's word, and not reserving to himself
so much per cent in the affair!

Rosas listened open-mouthed, his ears tingling and his blood rushing to
his temples, while he sunk his fingers into Marianne's arms, she,
meanwhile, glaring at Gochard.

When he had finished, she disengaged herself from Rosas's clutch by an
extreme effort, and ran to the rascal and spat in his face.

He lifted his hand to her and said:

"Ah! but!--"

"Begone!" said the duke. "You wish to be paid?"

"The money is not all. I demand respect!" replied Gochard, as he wiped
his cheek.

He placed his card on the mantelpiece.

"Adolphe Gochard! there is my address. Besides, Madame knows it. With
the pistol, the sabre, or the espadon, as you please! I am afraid of no
one."

"You will be paid, you have been told, you shall be paid!" cried
Marianne, absolutely crazy and ready to tear him with her nails. "Be
off! ruffian! begone, thief!"

"Fiddle-faddle!" replied Adolphe, as he replaced his hat on the side of
his bald head. "I have said what I have to say. I do not like to be made
a fool of!"

He disappeared, waddling away like a strolling player uncertain of his
exit.

Rosas did not even see him go.

He had seized Marianne by both hands and was dragging her toward the
window, through which the daylight still entered, and convulsed with
rage he penetrated her eyes with his glance, his face looking still more
pallid, in contrast with his red beard.

She was terrified. She believed herself at the point of death. She felt
that he was going to kill her.

She suddenly fell on her knees.

He still looked at her, leaning over her with the appearance of a
madman.

"Vaudrey?--Vaudrey? The man whom I saw at your uncle's?--The man whom I
have elbowed with you?--Vaudrey?--This man was your lover, then?"

She was so alarmed that she did not reply.

"You have lied to me, then? But, tell me, wretched woman, have you not
lied to me?"

"I loved you and I desired you!" said Marianne.

"Nonsense!" said Rosas, in a strident, deep-chested voice. "You want