r," asked poor Claire, trembling with
fear, "what is the matter?" And then, without giving her agitated parent
time to recover herself, the terrified girl threw her arms around her
mother's neck, as if she sought for safety in that fond, maternal bosom,
while Madame de Fermont, pressing her child almost convulsively to her
breast, gazed with terror at the door.

"Mamma, mamma," again moaned Claire, "what was that noise that awoke me?
And why do you seem so much alarmed?"

"I know not, my child, what it was. But calm yourself, there is nothing
to fear; some one merely knocked at the door,--possibly to bring us a
letter from the post-office."

At this moment the worm-eaten door shook and rattled beneath the blows
dealt against it by some powerful fist.

"Who is there?" inquired Madame de Fermont, in a trembling tone.

A harsh, coarse, and vulgar voice replied, "Holloa, there! What, are you
so deaf there's no making you hear? Holloa, I say, open your door; and
let's have a look at you. Hip, hip, holloa! Come, sharp's the word; I'm
in a hurry."

"I know you not," exclaimed Madame de Fermont, striving to command
herself sufficiently to speak with a steady voice; "what is it you seek
here?"

"Not know me? Why, I'm your opposite neighbour and fellow lodger, Robin.
I want a light for my pipe. Come, cut about. Whoop, holloa! Don't go to
sleep again, or I must come in and wake you."

"Merciful heavens!" whispered the mother to her daughter, "'tis that
lame man, who is nearly always intoxicated."

"Now, then, are you going to give me a light? Because, I tell you
fairly, one I will have if I knock your rickety old door to pieces."

"I have no light to give you."

"Oh, bother and nonsense! If you have no candle burning you must have
the means of lighting one. Nobody is without a few lucifer matches, be
they ever so poor. Do you or do you not choose to give me a light?"

"I beg of you to go away."

"You don't choose to open your door, then? Once,--twice,--mind, I will
have it."

"I request you to quit my door immediately, or I will call for
assistance."

"Once,--twice,--thrice,--you will not? Well, then, here goes! Now I'll
smash your old timbers, into morsels too small for you to pick up.
Hu!--hu!--hallo! Well done! Bravo!"

And suiting the action to the word, the ruffian assailed the door so
furiously that he quickly drove it in, the miserable lock with which it
was furnished having speedily broken to pieces.