"Oh, don't try to play innocent, my dear. The person who paid me is a handsome fellow, tall, and dark complexioned, with a brown moustache. That description would answer for his passport, if he wanted one." The marquis had listened to M. Bouffard first with surprise, and then with utter dismay. This young girl, in whom he had taken so deep an interest, had suddenly become hateful in his eyes; so coldly bowing to Herminie, he walked silently to the door, with an expression of bitter disappointment on his face. "Ah," he thought, "still another lost illusion!" "Remain, monsieur," cried the young girl, running after him, all of a tremble, and overcome with shame, "I entreat you--I implore you to remain!" CHAPTER XXIX. HUMILIATION AND CONSOLATION. On hearing Herminie's appeal, M. de Maillefort turned and asked, coldly and sternly: "What do you want, mademoiselle?" "What do I want, monsieur?" the girl exclaimed, her cheeks on fire, her eyes sparkling with tears of wounded pride and indignation. "What I want is to tell this man in your presence that he lies." "I?" snorted M. Bouffard, indignantly. "Really, this is a little too much, when I have the yellow boys right here in my pocket." "But I tell you that you lie!" cried the girl, advancing towards him, with a commanding gesture. "I have given no one the right to pay you, or to make me the victim of such an insult." In spite of the coarseness of his nature, M. Bouffard was not a little impressed by this display of fiery indignation, so retreating a step or two, the owner of the house stammered by way of excuse: "But I swear to you, mademoiselle, upon my sacred word of honour, that, as I was going up-stairs a few minutes ago, I was stopped on the first landing by a handsome, dark-complexioned young man who gave me this gold to pay your rent. I'm telling you the honest truth; upon my word I am!" "Oh, my God, to be humiliated and insulted like this!" cried the young girl, her long repressed sobs bursting forth at last. After a moment, turning to the hunchback, a silent witness of the scene, Herminie said, in entreating tones, her beautiful face bathed with tears: "Oh, in pity, do not believe that I have merited this insult, M. le marquis." "A marquis!" muttered M. Bouffard, hastily removing his hat, which he had kept upon his head up to that time. M. de Maillefort, turning to Herminie, his face beaming as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his heart, took her by the hand as a father might have done, and said: "I believe you, I believe you, my dear child! Do not stoop to justify yourself. Your tears, and the evident sincerity of your words, as well as your just indignation, all satisfy me that you are speaking the truth, and that this insulting liberty was taken without your knowledge or consent."