‘Aye—aye!’ responded Dubois, ‘leave you to go out and order in more champagne and burgundy, and truffled turkeys and smoked hams, for your own table, whilst we go home to feast on rye-bread and water. That’s what you’ve been doing for the last twenty years. Eating your head off on honest people’s credit, and giving them buttered words instead of cash. But you’ve come to the end of your tether at last.’ ‘_Ahi! Ahi! Ahi!_’ yelled the rest, as they brandished their bare arms and made grimaces at him. ‘Truffled turkeys and champagne!’ screamed the Mère Fromard; ‘I’ll give him a truffled turkey to remember me by!’ and, seizing a huge wooden _sabot_ from her foot, she prepared to hurl it at his head. In a moment I had dashed through the kitchen-door, and was standing in front of the old man. My sudden and unexpected appearance created somewhat of a diversion. ‘How dare you attempt violence!’ I cried excitedly; ‘put down that _sabot_, Mère Fromard, or I will send at once for the _gendarme_. You are fools, every one of you, to risk a prison for the sake of indulging your venomous tongues.’ ‘Mamselle does not understand,’ commenced the cobbler, with a view to explanation. ‘I understand everything, Jean Marat, and I see that you are a set of cowardly ruffians instead of respectable tradespeople as I took you to be. Twelve to one! That is a brave proceeding, isn’t it? Why, if you hadn’t watched Monsieur Charteris out of the house, you wouldn’t have dared to enter the yard.’ ‘We want our money, mamselle,’ squeaked a woman’s voice. ‘Well, you shan’t have it! not until you have apologised to Monsieur le Curé for the indignities you have put upon him, and gone quietly away to your own homes. If you will do that, I promise you your bills shall be paid.’ ‘Aye! but have you any right to promise?’ grumbled one of the men. ‘I have money of my own, and I will pay them myself. Will that satisfy you?’ ‘You may trust the word of mamselle,’ said Madame Fromard, addressing the crowd. ‘I know a true face when I see it, and she has been very good to me since Guillaume died.’ ‘And nicely you have requited my kindness, Madame Fromard,’ I retorted. ‘You, who call yourself a Christian, to attempt to injure an old man like this, and a minister of religion. Are you not afraid of bringing down the anger of Heaven upon your family? What would Monsieur l’Abbé say to such a disgraceful proceeding?’ ‘Monsieur l’Abbé owes no man anything,’ grumbled the woman. ‘And because he is good, is that any reason you should be bad? I’m ashamed of the whole lot of you. Come now! clear out of this courtyard at once. If there is a single man or woman left here in two minutes’ time, I shall send for the _gendarme_ to restore order. And you, Marmoret, go back to your kitchen and remain there!’