"Madame . . . it is because you are so majestic . . . you resemble so much one of the daughters of our king, that my heart beats in spite of myself;" and the Marquis placed his hand upon his heart with a movement full of grace. "Mercy on me, I can hardly speak! Ah! do not wish me to do it, madame. Self-command is impossible in circumstances like these," said Létorière, casting a look at once timid and imploring upon the lady, who was flattered by the effect she produced, and by her resemblance to one of the daughters of the King of France. "I don't know whether I am asleep or awake," said Martha to herself; "how is it that he has been called shameless? audacious? a pitiless seducer? But perhaps he is playing with me! perhaps this appearance of candor is only an abominable feint of the evil spirit! Perhaps it is only the artifice of the tiger, who approaches his prey with soft steps, the better to seize and devour it!" As this suspicion took possession of her mind, imitating, to a certain extent, in her retreat, the side-ling and stealthy step of the tiger, she prudently regained her fortress, that is to say, the table, and said softly to her husband: "Prepare your blunderbuss, Flachsinfingen . . . the moment approaches . . ." By quick movement under the cover, it was impossible to guess whether the councillor raised his blunderbuss or made an impatient gesture. Once safely intrenched, with her poniard near at hand, the lady resumed her imperious tone, her repulsive physiognomy, and said, harshly, to Létorière: "Well! and what do you want, sir? My husband is convinced of the justice of the claims of the German princes, and all your efforts will be useless." "Adieu, then, madame, since you will not deign to hear me! I have no longer any hope. . . . Alas! ye Fates, how unhappy I am!" The Marquis, putting one of his hands before his eyes, turned towards the door in profound dejection. Noting this movement, which was far from announcing hostile intentions, and hearing this accent of despair, the councillor's wife forgot all her suspicions, emerged for the second time from her fortress, approached the Marquis, and said to him in a softer voice, but which betrayed a little pettishness: "Who told you I would not listen to you, young man? Why are you going away? Although the question of your lawsuit may be settled, it is my husband's duty to listen to your claims. . . . Confide in me, then . . . reassure yourself. Have I such a terrifying look? See, come near me,--don't be afraid!" And thus speaking, Martha took the Marquis by the hand and led him slowly to a scat, repeating: "Tranquillize yourself; you must not be afraid of me any more, my child." At this moment a burst of roaring laughter was heard, the cloth on the table was suddenly thrust aside, and the great fat councillor appeared, blunderbuss in hand, crying with increasing merriment: