This glorious representative of the nation had laid aside the uniform of a citizen soldier and donned a gray sack coat. "Well, have you my money ready?" he demanded, roughly, planting himself on the threshold of the door the girl had opened for him with such an unsteady hand. "But, monsieur--" "Do you intend to pay me, yes or no?" exclaimed M. Bouffard, in such a loud voice that the question was overheard by two other persons. One was then standing under the porte-cochere. The other was mounting the staircase which started close to the entrance to Herminie's apartments. "I ask you for the last time, will you pay me? Answer me, yes or no!" repeated M. Bouffard, in even louder and more threatening tones. "In pity do not speak so loud," said Herminie, in imploring accents. "I assure you that, though I cannot pay you, it is not my fault; indeed it is not." "I am in my own house, and I will talk as I please. If any one overhears me so much the better. It may serve as a lesson to other tenants who may want to get out of paying their rent just like you." "Step inside, monsieur, I beseech you," pleaded Herminie, clasping her hands, imploringly; "and I will explain." "Explain--explain what?" retorted M. Bouffard, following the girl into her room. "There's no explanation possible. The whole affair is very simple. Are you going to pay me,--yes, or no?" "It is impossible, unfortunately, just at this time," said Herminie, dashing away a tear, "but if you will have the great kindness to wait--" "Always the same old story!" sneered M. Bouffard, shrugging his shoulders. Then glancing around the room with a sardonic air, he added: "This is a pretty state of things! Here is a tenant who declares she cannot pay her rent, and yet indulges in fine carpets, chintz hangings, and all sorts of knick-knacks. If it isn't enough to make a man swear! I, who own seven houses in the city of Paris, have a carpet only in my drawing-room, and Madame Bouffard's boudoir is hung with a fifteen sous paper; and yet, here is a young woman who gives herself the airs of a princess, though she hasn't a penny." Herminie, driven to desperation, lifted her head proudly, and, in a manner that was both firm and dignified, said: "This piano is worth at least four times the amount of my indebtedness, monsieur. Send for it whenever you please. It is the only article of value I possess. Dispose of it; sell it whenever you like." "Am I a dealer in pianos? How do I know what I should realise from the sale of your instrument? You must pay me my rent in money, and not in pianos." "But good heavens, monsieur! I have no money. I offer you my piano, though I earn my living by it. What more can I do?" "I won't accept anything of the kind. You have money, I know it. You sent a watch and some silver, too, to the pawnbroker's, for it was my portress who took them there for you. You can't humbug me, you see."