She had entered the notary's as a timid woman; all at once she showed herself a grand, proud, and irritated lady. Never had Jacques Ferrand in his life met with a woman of so much insolent beauty, at once so bold and so noble. Although old, ugly, mean, and sordid, Jacques Ferrand was as capable as any one else of appreciating the style of beauty of Madame de Lucenay. His hatred and his rage against Saint Remy augmented with his admiration of the charming duchess. He thought to himself that this gentleman forger, who had almost kneeled before him, inspired such love in this grand lady, that she risked a step which might ruin her. At these thoughts the notary felt his audacity, which for a moment was paralyzed, restored. Hatred, envy, a kind of burning, savage resentment kindled in his looks, on his forehead, and his cheeks--the most shameful and wicked passions. Seeing Madame de Lucenay on the point of commencing a conversation so delicate, he expected on her part some turnings, expedients. What was his surprise! She spoke to him with as much assurance and pride as if it was concerning the most natural thing in the world, and as if before a man of his species, she had no thought of the reserve and fitness which she had certainly shown to her equals. In fact, the gross insolence of the notary, in wounding her to the quick, had forced Madame de Lucenay, to quit the humble and imploring part that she had at first assumed with much trouble; returned to her own dignity, she believed it to be beneath her to descend to the least concealment with this scribbler of deeds. "Sir notary," said the duchess, resolutely, to Jacques Ferrand, "M. de Saint Remy is one of my friends; he has confided to me the embarrassing situation in which he finds himself, from the inconvenience of a double piece of villainy of which he is the victim. Everything can be managed with money. How much is necessary to terminate these miserable, shuffling tricks?" Jacques Ferrand was completely astounded with this cavalier and deliberate manner of opening the business. "They ask a hundred thousand francs," answered he, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment. "You shall have your hundred thousand francs; and you will send at once the bad papers to M. de Saint Remy." "Where are the hundred thousand francs, your grace?" "Did I not tell you that you should have them, sir?" "They must be had to-morrow, before noon, madame; otherwise a complaint of forgery will be made." "Well, give this amount; I will be accountable for it; as for you I will pay you well." "But, madame, it is impossible." "You will not tell me, I hope, that a notary like you cannot procure a hundred thousand francs any day?" "On what security, madame?" "What does that mean? Explain yourself." "Who is to be answerable for this amount?" "I." "But, madame--"