ces.

"Stupid, awkward fool!" cried the marchioness, venting her anger upon
the frightened girl.

M. Daburon, bewildered at first, now endeavored to calm her
exasperation. She did not allow him to pronounce three words.

"Happily you are here," she continued; "you are always willing to serve
me, I know. I count upon you! you will exercise your influence, your
powerful friends, your credit, to have this pitiful painter and this
miscreant of a judge flung into some deep ditch, to teach them the
respect due to a woman of my rank."

The magistrate did not permit himself even to smile at this imperative
demand. He had heard many speeches as absurd issue from her lips without
ever making fun of them. Was she not Claire's grandmother? for that
alone he loved and venerated her. He blessed her for her granddaughter,
as an admirer of nature blesses heaven for the wild flower that delights
him with its perfume.

The fury of the old lady was terrible; nor was it of short duration. At
the end of an hour, however, she was, or appeared to be, pacified. They
replaced her head-dress, repaired the disorder of her toilette, and
picked up the fragments of broken glass and china. Vanquished by her
own violence, the reaction was immediate and complete. She fell back
helpless and exhausted into an arm-chair.

This magnificent result was due to the magistrate. To accomplish it, he
had had to use all his ability, to exercise the most angelic patience,
the greatest tact. His triumph was the more meritorious, because he
came completely unprepared for this adventure, which interfered with his
intended proposal. The first time that he had felt sufficient courage
to speak, fortune seemed to declare against him, for this untoward event
had quite upset his plans.

Arming himself, however, with his professional eloquence, he talked the
old lady into calmness. He was not so foolish as to contradict her. On
the contrary, he caressed her hobby. He was humorous and pathetic by
turns. He attacked the authors of the revolution, cursed its errors,
deplored its crimes, and almost wept over its disastrous results.
Commencing with the infamous Marat he eventually reached the rascal of a
judge who had offended her. He abused his scandalous conduct in good set
terms, and was exceedingly severe upon the dishonest scamp of a painter.
However, he thought it best to let them off the punishment they so
richly deserved; and ended by suggesting that it would perh