"'You're devilishly mistaken,' he replied; 'on the contrary, your Mignonne is a young woman who refuses to be tamed. At first, being persuaded that you believed her guilty, she was determined to go after you, to dog your steps and compel you to listen to her. Faith! my dear fellow, when I saw how it was, I just simply confessed our little scheme to bring about a rupture between you two. The effect of that confession was most extraordinary. At first, the girl refused to believe me, but I proved to her that I was telling the truth: I had a little note from you, telling me at what café I could find you, to return the key of Mignonne's room. I showed her that note, and she could have no further doubt. She said just this: "The infamous villain!" Not another word about going after you. "Now," says I to myself, "she's at odds with him for good and all; I must try to obtain my pardon." And I tried to make her understand that I had loved her for a long while, and that only the intensity of my passion could have induced me to second you in that affair. But Mademoiselle Mignonne, without deigning to reply to my entreaties, pointed to the door and said: "'"Leave this room, monsieur, and never let me see your face again, or I will go to the magistrate and tell him of your shameful conduct." "'I tried in vain to make her understand that the night we had passed together gave me some rights over her; the fair Mignonne was immovable. I tried to steal a kiss; she shrieked so loud that the neighbors came to their windows. And so, faith! I went away; but let her do what she will, I'll bide my time, I'll seize the first favorable opportunity, and we won't stop where we are!' "Such, messieurs, was Rambertin's story, and that is how I broke off my liaison with the damsel of Sceaux. Don't you think the method I resorted to was very ingenious? I'll wager that you'll bear it in mind, in order to make use of it on occasion!" Monsieur Fouvenard looked at us, one after another, as if he expected compliments and congratulations; but, on the contrary, nobody spoke, and almost every face had assumed a serious expression. Indeed, there were some faces on which he seemed to detect something more than mere seriousness; for, I am happy to say, his narrative found no sympathy among us. As for myself, I had always felt a sort of repulsion for that young man, a repulsion of the sort that one cannot describe, but that one often feels for a certain person. At that moment, I was gratified to think that I had always disliked a man capable of such dastardly, vile behavior as he boasted of in connection with that poor girl from Sceaux. The portrait he had drawn of Mignonne interested and touched me; and it seemed to me that I should like to know her, and to avenge her for the infamous way in which she had been victimized.