"Well, did I not tell you?" she exclaimed. "I was not wrong: we have spent, in all, six hundred and forty francs, and the Morels will be housed like princes. See! the shopkeepers are coming: are they not loaded? Nothing is wanted for the use of the family--even to a gridiron, two beautiful saucepans newly tinned, and a coffee-pot. I said to myself, since everything is to be had, it shall be so; and, besides all that, I have spent three hours. But make haste and pay, neighbor, and let us go. It is almost noon, and my needle must go at a pretty rate to overtake this morning!" Rudolph paid, and left the Temple with Miss Dimpleton. As the grisette and her companion entered the passage of the house, they were almost thrown down by Mrs. Pipelet, who was running out, troubled, frightened, aghast. "Gracious heaven!" said Miss Dimpleton, "what is the matter with you, Mrs. Pipelet? Where are you running to in that manner?" "Is that you, Miss Dimpleton?" exclaimed Anastasia. "Providence has sent you. Help me! save the life of Alfred!" "What do you say?" "That poor old darling has fainted! Have pity upon us! run and fetch two sous worth of absinthe--very strong; that is the remedy when he is indisposed in the pylorus. Be kind; do not refuse me, and I can return to Alfred. I am quite confused!" Miss Dimpleton left Rudolph's arm, and ran off to the dram-shop. "But what has happened, Mrs. Pipelet?" asked Rudolph, following the portress, who returned to the lodge. "How should I know, my worthy sir? I left home to go to the mayor's, the church, and the cook-shop, to prevent Alfred from tiring himself. I returned; what did I see? the dear old man with his legs and arms all in the air! Look, M. Rudolph!" said Anastasia, opening the door of the room, "is not that a sight to break one's heart?" Lamentable spectacle! With his enormous hat still on his head, even further on than usual, for the questionable _castor,_ pushed down, no doubt, by violence, if we may judge by a transverse gap, covered Pipelet's eyes, who was on his back on the floor, at the foot of his bed. The fainting was over, and Alfred was beginning to make some slight movements with his hands, as though he wished to repulse some one or some thing; and then he tried to remove his troublesome visor. "He kicks! that is a good sign; he recovers!" cried the portress--and stooping down, she bawled in his ears: "What is the matter with my Alfred? It is his 'Stasie who is here. How are you now? They are coming to bring you some absinthe; that will put you to rights." Then, assuming a caressing tone of voice, she added: "Have they abused you, killed you, my dear old darling--eh?" Alfred sighed deeply, and with a groan uttered a fatal word: "_Cabrion!_" His trembling hands seemed as though desirous of repulsing a frightful vision.