"There's my robber!" she cried; "that's the man I saw by my bed when I woke up; I know him by his eyebrows!" "Mon Dieu, madame!" rejoined Varinet, calmly; "I beg that you will excuse me, but I was looking for these gentlemen; I heard them laughing, from the floor below; so I came up, found a door open, and entered your apartment with no idea where I was going." Madame Vardeine did not seem convinced, and the concierge still held his broom in the air as if he proposed to sweep everybody out of the room. But the arrival of Balivan restored peace. The painter rescued his friends, guaranteeing that there were no thieves among them, and they decided at last to go away with him; but before taking their leave, each of them cast a parting glance at the loft, where Elina crouched, trembling from head to foot. "She is charming," said Albert. "I shall see her again," said Mouillot. "Yes, yes," added Célestin; "and everyone will receive what he deserves for his conduct this morning." Paul made no reply, but the glance with which he met Célestin's seemed to defy him, and to show how little heed he paid to his threats. XI IN THE MAGISTRATE'S OFFICE It was eight o'clock in the morning; Sans-Cravate was in his usual place, not lying on his _crochets_ this time, but seated on the end of them, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his head in his hands, looking about from time to time with a dissatisfied air. His eyes often sought out Paul's place, which was empty; then he clenched his fists, muttered some words between his teeth, and stamped on the ground impatiently. Jean Ficelle was pacing back and forth, within a space of about twenty yards; constantly passing in front of his comrade, to whom he spoke now and then, while he took huge bites from an enormous piece of bread and from a bologna sausage, alternately. "Well, Sans-Cravate, you don't have anything to say this morning. Did our little spree last night tie up your tongue? You ain't sick, are you?" "No, no! I've forgotten all about it; I'm all right." "_Pardié_, you wasn't drunk, anyway! anybody who says you was drunk lies." "I think myself that I had a little too much." "Not a bit of it; you think that because you got into a dispute, and that heated you up. You could have drunk a lot more. Do you know, I'm very sorry you couldn't settle your bet with Père Cagnoux; that would have staggered the old boy. It was that snivelling Paul that spoiled it all. Hm! he was rather inclined to crawl. Refuse to fight! that's just what he did! I call him a poor cuss for friends to be seen with. Look you, a comparison: he's like a slater that's afraid to go up on the roof and is only willing to slate the ground floor." "But he was willing to fight with the rest of you."