retorted; Madame Rigaud grew warm; I grew warm, and provoked her. I admit it. Frankness is a part of my character. At length, Madame Rigaud, in an access of fury that I must ever deplore, threw herself upon me with screams of passion (no doubt those that were overheard at some distance), tore my clothes, tore my hair, lacerated my hands, trampled and trod the dust, and finally leaped over, dashing herself to death upon the rocks below. Such is the train of incidents which malice has perverted into my endeavouring to force from Madame Rigaud a relinquishment of her rights; and, on her persistence in a refusal to make the concession I       required, struggling with her—assassinating her!’      

       He stepped aside to the ledge where the vine leaves yet lay strewn about, collected two or three, and stood wiping his hands upon them, with his back to the light.     

       ‘Well,’ he demanded after a silence, ‘have you nothing to say to all that?’      

       ‘It’s ugly,’ returned the little man, who had risen, and was brightening his knife upon his shoe, as he leaned an arm against the wall.     

       ‘What do you mean?’      

       John Baptist polished his knife in silence.     

       ‘Do you mean that I have not represented the case correctly?’      

       ‘Al-tro!’ returned John Baptist. The word was an apology now, and stood for ‘Oh, by no means!’      

       ‘What then?’      

       ‘Presidents and tribunals are so prejudiced.’      

       ‘Well,’ cried the other, uneasily flinging the end of his cloak over his shoulder with an oath, ‘let them do their worst!’      

       ‘Truly I think they will,’ murmured John Baptist to himself, as he bent his head to put his knife in his sash.     

       Nothing more was said on either side, though they both began walking to and fro, and necessarily crossed at every turn. Monsieur Rigaud sometimes stopped, as if he were going to put his case in a new light, 

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