The two women shrieked loudly; Madame de Fermont, in spite of her
weakness, rushed forward to meet the ruffian at the moment when he was
entering the room, and stopped him.

"Sir, this is most shameful; you must not enter here," exclaimed the
unhappy mother, keeping the door closed as well as she could. "I will
call for help." And she shuddered at the sight of this man, with his
hideous and drunken countenance.

"What's all this? What's all this?" said he. "Oughtn't neighbours to be
obliging? You ought to have opened; I shouldn't have broken anything."

Then with the stupid obstinacy of intoxication, he added, reeling on his
tottering legs:

"I wanted to come in, and I will come in; and I won't go out until I've
lighted my pipe."

"I have neither fire nor matches. In heaven's name, sir, do go away."

"That's not true. You tell me that I may not see the little girl who's
in bed. Yesterday you stopped up all the holes in the door. She's a
pretty chick, and I should like to see her. So mind, or I shall hurt you
if you don't let me enter quietly. I tell you I will see the little girl
in her bed, and I will light my pipe, or I'll smash everything before
me, and you into the bargain."

"Help, help, help!" exclaimed Madame de Fermont, who felt the door
yielding before the broad shoulders of the Gros-Boiteux.

Alarmed by her cries, the man retreated a step; and clenching his fist
at Madame de Fermont, he said:

"You shall pay me for this, mind. I will come back to-night and wring
your tongue out, and then you can't squall out."

And the Gros-Boiteux, as he was called at the Isle du Ravageur, went
down the staircase, uttering horrible threats.

Madame de Fermont, fearing that he might return, and seeing that the
lock was broken, dragged the table across the room, in order to
barricade it. Claire had been so alarmed, so agitated, at this horrible
scene, that she had fallen on her bed almost senseless, and overcome by
a nervous attack. Her mother, forgetting her own fears, ran to her,
embraced her, gave her a little water to drink, and by her caresses and
attentions revived her. When she saw her gradually recovering she said
to her:

"Calm yourself; don't be alarmed, my dearest child, this wicked man has
gone." Then the unfortunate mother exclaimed, in a tone of indescribable
indignation and grief, "And it is that notary who is the first cause of
all our sufferings."

Claire looked about her with as much astonish