"No! as to that, I give you my word of honor you are wrong, Monsieur Thierry! She is in despair----" "At what? Ah! you see, she has spoken to you about it, and you knew of the young man's presumption." Madame d'Estrelle struggled to no purpose. All the prudence of her sex, all the pride of her rank, all her natural shrewdness, and all her familiarity with society went for naught against the rich man's narrow and uncompromising logic. She was as if caught in a vise, and felt shamefaced, awkward, helpless, at the end of a no thoroughfare. What should she do? Turn out this boor who forced her to submit to a distasteful examination, and thereby abandon the cause of the poor Thierrys and turn them over to his vengeance; or restrain herself, defend herself as best she could, and submit to the humiliation of the most untimely of reprimands? "It seems," she said with sorrowful resignation, "that I made a very great mistake in going into that pavilion! I was very far from having any such idea, I had never seen Master Julien Thierry, and I started out with my mind full of your fine promises, to carry joy to his poor mother! I am well punished now for being so enthusiastic about you, Monsieur Thierry, since you consider that you are entitled to lecture me as if I were a little girl, and to call me to account for the most innocent if not the most honorable step that one woman can take toward another!" "For that reason you are not the one whom I blame," replied Monsieur Antoine, softened in one direction and proportionately more irritated in the other; "the true culprits are the ones I blame without appeal. Do you know what would have happened if I had entered just at the moment when Master Julien was breaking my lily? Why, I would have broken Master Julien! Yes, as sure as I am talking to you, the head of this cane would have broken his painter's head!" Madame d'Estrelle was alarmed by Monsieur Antoine's excited, vindictive manner; she was really afraid of him and involuntarily looked about her, as if in search of protection in case his wrath should turn against herself. She fancied that she could hear a rustling in the dense foliage behind the bench, and although it might have been only a bird hopping among the branches, she felt vaguely reassured. "No, my good neighbor," she rejoined with courageous mildness, "you cannot make me believe that you are a bad man, and you will do nothing unkind to anyone. You may vent your wrath on me alone, within the limits of your rights in that direction. You may scold me--and I will accept the rebuke. I will promise you what I have already promised myself, never to set foot in that pavilion again. What more can I do? Come, tell me."