d from her."

Still more and more astonished at this singular interference, the man
half hesitated to take the notes, and, when he had received them, he
eyed them with the utmost suspicion, turning and twisting them about in
every direction; at length, satisfied both as to their reality and
genuineness, he finally deposited them in his pocketbook: but, as his
surprise and alarm began to subside, so did his natural coarseness of
idea return, and, eyeing Rodolph from head to foot with an impertinent
stare, he exclaimed:

"The notes are right enough; but pray who and what are you that go about
with such sums? I should just wish to know whose it is, and how you came
by it?"

Rodolph was very plainly dressed, and his appearance by no means
improved by the dust and dirt his clothes had gathered during his stay
in M. Pipelet's Cabinet of Melodrama.

"I desired you to give back the gold you received just now from this
young person," replied Rodolph, in a severe and authoritative tone.

"You desired me! And who the devil are you, to give your orders?"
answered the man, approaching Rodolph in a threatening manner.

"Give back the gold! Give it back, I say!" said the prince, grasping the
wrist of Malicorne so tightly that the unhappy bailiff winced beneath
his iron clutch.

"I say," bawled he, "hands off, will you? Curse me if I don't think
you're old Nick himself! I am sure your fingers are cased with iron."

"Then return the money! Why, you despicable wretch! do you want to be
paid twice over? Now return the gold and begone, or, if you utter one
insolent word, I'll fling you over the banisters!"

"Well, don't kick up such a row! There's the girl's money," said
Malicorne, giving back to Louise the rouleau he had received. "But mind
what you are about, my sparky, and don't think to ill-use me because you
happen to be the strongest!"

"That's right!" said Bourdin, ensconcing himself behind his taller
associate. "And who are you, I should like to know, who give yourself
such airs?"

"Who is he? Why, my lodger, my king of lodgers, you ill-looking,
half-starved, hungry hounds! you ill-taught, dirty fellows!" exclaimed
Madame Pipelet, who, puffing and panting for breath, had at last reached
the landing where they stood; her head, as usual, adorned with her
Brutus wig, which, during the heat and bustle she had experienced in
ascending the stairs, had got pushed somewhat awry, while in her hand
she bore an earthen stewpan,