other the portrait of the confounded painter.
Alfred's despair was so overwhelming that his chin touched his breast,
so that the wide crown of his bell-shaped hat was easily seen. Seeing
him thus, with his head lowered, coming towards Rodolph and Rigolette,
he might have been compared to a ram, or a brave Breton, preparing for
combat.

Anastasie soon appeared on the threshold of the lodge, and exclaimed, at
her husband's appearance:

"Well, dearest old boy, here you are! And what did the commissary say to
you? Alfred, Alfred, mind what you're doing, or you'll poke your head
against my king of lodgers. Excuse him, M. Rodolph. It is that vagabond
of a Cabrion, who uses him worse and worse. He'll certainly turn my dear
old darling into a donkey! Alfred, love, speak to me!"

At this voice, so dear to his heart, M. Pipelet raised his head. His
features were impressed with a bitter agony.

"What did the commissary say to you?" inquired Anastasie.

"Anastasie, we must collect the few things we possess, embrace our
friends, pack up our trunk, and expatriate ourselves from Paris,--from
France,--from my beautiful France; for now, assured of impunity, the
monster is capable of pursuing me everywhere, throughout the length and
breadth of the departments of the kingdom."

"What, the commissary?"

"The commissary," exclaimed M. Pipelet, with fierce indignation,--"the
commissary laughed in my teeth!"

"At you,--a man of mature age, with an air so respectable that you would
appear as silly as a goose if one did not know your virtues?"

"Well, notwithstanding that, when I had respectfully deposed in his
presence my mass of complaints and vexations against that infernal
Cabrion, the magistrate, after having looked and laughed--yes, laughed,
and, I may add, laughed indecorously--at the sign and the portrait
which I brought with me as corroborative testimony,--the magistrate
replied, 'My good fellow, this Cabrion is a wag,--a practical joker. But
pay no attention to his pleasantries. I advise you to laugh at him, and
heartily, too, for really there is ample cause to do so.' 'To laugh at
it, sir-r-r!' I exclaimed,--'to laugh at it, when grief consumes
me,--when this scamp poisons my very existence; he placards me, and will
drive me out of my wits. I demand that they imprison, exile the
monster,--at least from my street!' At these words the commissary
smiled, and politely pointed to the door. I understood the magistrate,
sighed, a