"Well, dearest old boy, here you are! And what did the commissary say to you? Alfred, Alfred, mind what you're doing, or you'll poke your head against my king of lodgers. Excuse him, M. Rodolph. It is that vagabond of a Cabrion, who uses him worse and worse. He'll certainly turn my dear old darling into a donkey! Alfred, love, speak to me!" At this voice, so dear to his heart, M. Pipelet raised his head. His features were impressed with a bitter agony. "What did the commissary say to you?" inquired Anastasie. "Anastasie, we must collect the few things we possess, embrace our friends, pack up our trunk, and expatriate ourselves from Paris,--from France,--from my beautiful France; for now, assured of impunity, the monster is capable of pursuing me everywhere, throughout the length and breadth of the departments of the kingdom." "What, the commissary?" "The commissary," exclaimed M. Pipelet, with fierce indignation,--"the commissary laughed in my teeth!" "At you,--a man of mature age, with an air so respectable that you would appear as silly as a goose if one did not know your virtues?" "Well, notwithstanding that, when I had respectfully deposed in his presence my mass of complaints and vexations against that infernal Cabrion, the magistrate, after having looked and laughed--yes, laughed, and, I may add, laughed indecorously--at the sign and the portrait which I brought with me as corroborative testimony,--the magistrate replied, 'My good fellow, this Cabrion is a wag,--a practical joker. But pay no attention to his pleasantries. I advise you to laugh at him, and heartily, too, for really there is ample cause to do so.' 'To laugh at it, sir-r-r!' I exclaimed,--'to laugh at it, when grief consumes me,--when this scamp poisons my very existence; he placards me, and will drive me out of my wits. I demand that they imprison, exile the monster,--at least from my street!' At these words the commissary smiled, and politely pointed to the door. I understood the magistrate, sighed, and--and--here I am!" "Good-for-nothing magistrate!" exclaimed Madame Pipelet. "It is all over, Anastasie,--all is ended,--hope ceases. There's no justice in France; I am really atrociously sacrificed." And, by way of peroration, M. Pipelet dashed the sign and portrait to the farther end of the passage with all his force. Rodolph and Rigolette had in the shade smiled at M. Pipelet's despair. After having said a few words of consolation to Alfred, whom Anastasie was trying to calm as well as she could, the king of lodgers left the house in the Rue du Temple with Rigolette, and they both got into a coach to go to Francois Germain's. CHAPTER II. THE WILL.