“You did right to send her away,” whispered Rigou, “or she might have been hurt”; and he glanced significantly at the hand with which Marie grasped a stool she had caught up to throw at Aglae’s head. “Now, Marie,” said Socquard, standing before her, “people don’t come here to fling stools; if you were to break one of my mirrors, the milk of your cows wouldn’t pay for the damage.” “Pere Socquard, your daughter is a reptile; I’m worth a dozen of her, I’d have you know. If you don’t want Bonnebault for a son-in-law, it is high time for you to tell him to go and play billiards somewhere else; he’s losing a hundred sous every minute.” In the middle of this flux of words, screamed rather than said, Socquard took Marie round the waist and flung her out of the door, in spite of her cries and resistance. It was none too soon; for Bonnebault rushed out of the billiard-room, his eyes blazing. “It sha’n’t end so!” cried Marie Tonsard. “Begone!” shouted Bonnebault, whom Viollet held back round the body lest he should do the girl some hurt. “Go to the devil, or I will never speak to you or look at you again!” “You!” said Marie, flinging him a furious glance. “Give me back my money, and I’ll leave you to Mademoiselle Socquard if she is rich enough to keep you.” Thereupon Marie, frightened when she saw that even Socquard-Alcides could scarcely hold Bonnebault, who sprang after her like a tiger, took to flight along the road. Rigou followed, and told her to get into his carriole to escape Bonnebault, whose shouts reached the hotel Soudry; then, after hiding Marie under the leather curtains, he came back to the cafe to drink his lemonade and examine the group it now contained, composed of Plissoud, Amaury, Viollet, and the waiter, who were all trying to pacify Bonnebault. “Come, hussar, it’s your turn to play,” said Amaury, a small, fair young man, with a dull eye. “Besides, she’s taken herself off,” said Viollet. If any one ever betrayed astonishment it was Plissoud when he beheld the usurer of Blangy sitting at one of the tables, and more occupied in watching him, Plissoud, than in noticing the quarrel that was going on. In spite of himself, the sheriff allowed his face to show the species of bewilderment which a man feels at an unexpected meeting with a person whom he hates and is plotting against, and he speedily withdrew into the billiard-room. “Adieu, Pere Socquard,” said Rigou. “I’ll get your carriage,” said the innkeeper; “take your time.” “How shall I find out what those fellows have been saying over their pool?” Rigou was asking himself, when he happened to see the waiter’s face in the mirror beside him.