"Then you would have done better not to have followed me," replied the marchioness with calm asperity; "I had a reason for coming to this picture-shop, you have none. Do me the favor to allow me to conduct myself here as I please." "I wash my hands of the affair," replied the notary, saluting Julien with much courtesy; and he took his leave, cursing the shrewish and capricious humor of his client. "As for you, monsieur le procureur,--" said the marchioness to Marcel. "As for me, madame," retorted Marcel, "this house is occupied by members of my own family, and I receive orders from no one except the mistress of the house, who is my aunt." "I know all that. I know your relationship and the understanding between you as between good friends, and your neighborly relations with the Comte d'Estrelle's widow. Remain if you choose, or turn me out if you dare." "Let us have done with this, madame," said Julien, losing patience. "I am not in the habit of failing in respect to a woman, however _extraordinary_ her conduct may appear to me; but I am an artist, a mechanic if you choose; I am on my own premises, in my picture-shop, as you well describe it; I am working, I have no time to waste. You talk to me of subjects which I do not understand and of a person whom I have not the honor to receive; if you have no other motive for interrupting me, permit me to leave you." With that he picked up his palette and his sketch and left the studio, with an expressive glance at Marcel, which seemed to say: "Get me out of this as best you can." "Very good!" said the marchioness, not at all crushed by this dismissal in due form. "I will remember the shepherd's ballad. Let us look about this hovel a bit. I will spare you nothing; I want to see the whole pavilion, inside, upstairs and down, as I saw the hôtel." "Come, madame," said Marcel, "since you insist upon it. Simply allow me to warn my aunt, who lives upstairs!" "No, not at all," replied the dowager, walking toward the door, "I will warn her myself, and if she turns me out--why, I shall be very well pleased, monsieur le procureur!" "Ah! this is enough to drive one mad!" cried Marcel involuntarily; "is it possible that you really believe that Madame d'Estrelle is in hiding here? In that case, come, madame; I will show you the way. When your mind is at rest--" Marcel was a hundred leagues from imagining that Julie was in his aunt's room. Suddenly, as he hastily opened the studio door, he saw Madame d'Estrelle and Madame Thierry before him, and stood still, in the most painful attitude one can attribute to disappointment.