, believing that the
fiend who torments me is ever near,--hid, perhaps, in the floor, the
wall, the ceiling, and thence watches me throughout the day; or even at
night, when sleeping in the chaste arms of my wife, his eye is still on
me. And who can tell but he is at this very instant behind me, gazing
with that well-known sardonic grin; or crouched down in some corner of
the room, like a deadly reptile! Say, you monster, are you there? Are
you there, I demand?" cried M. Pipelet, accompanying this furious
adjuration by a sort of circular motion of the head, as though wishing
to interrogate every nook and corner of the lodge.

"Yes, dear friend, here I am!" answered the well-known voice of Cabrion,
in blandly affectionate tones.

By a simple trick in ventriloquism, these words were made to appear as
though issuing from the recess in which stood the bed; but the malicious
joker was in reality close to the door of the lodge, enjoying every
particular look and word that passed within. However, after uttering the
last few words, he prudently disappeared with all haste, though not (as
will be seen) without leaving his victim a fresh subject for rage,
astonishment, and meditation.

Madame Pipelet, still skeptical and courageous, carefully examined under
the bed, as well as in every corner of the lodge, but, discovering no
trace of the enemy, actually went out into the alley to prosecute her
researches; while M. Pipelet, completely crushed by this last blow,
fell back into his chair in a state of boundless despair.

"Never mind, Alfred!" said Anastasie, who always exhibited great
determination upon all critical occasions. "Bless you! The villain had
managed to hide himself somewhere near the door, and, while we were
looking in one direction, he managed to slip out in another. But just
wait a bit: I shall catch him one of these days, and then see if I don't
make him taste my broomstick! Let him take care, that's all!"

The door opened as she concluded this animating address, and Madame
Seraphin, the housekeeper of the notary, Jacques Ferrand, entered the
lodge.

"Good day, Madame Seraphin," said Madame Pipelet, who, in her extreme
anxiety to conceal her domestic troubles from a stranger, assumed all at
once a most gracious and winning manner; "what can I have the pleasure
of doing for you?"

"Why, first of all, tell me what is the meaning of your new sign?"

"Our new sign?"

"Yes; the small printed board."

"Printed