—­And you believe that I shall be satisfied with this fine promise?  You will let me have my money back immediately, or I shall certainly accuse you of being a thief ... an adventuress.

—­I will say what happened.  It was you who compelled me to take the money for the coach-fare.

—­I make you a present of that, but you will have to pay all that you have spent here; if not, you will be put in prison, you understand, little good-for-nothing?  Do you think people are going to keep you and let you enjoy yourself for nothing?

—­And who has told you that I shall not pay, replied Zulma, struck by the logic of this objection.

—­Then you will pay immediately, said the worthy man, for I have been answerable for you, and it is on my recommendation that they have received a trollop like you into this respectable house.  Madame Connard, he cried at the door, dear Madame Connard, will you bring up the bill, the little bill?

Madame Connard appeared at once: 

—­What, Mademoiselle is going away, is she not sleeping here?

—­No, Mademoiselle is going to try her fortune elsewhere.

Madame Connard handed the bill to Monsieur Tibulle.

—­No, no.  It is Mademoiselle who is going to settle it; this young lady.

Zulma glanced at it and grew pale.  She had hardly 10 francs, and the bill amounted to 19 francs, 75 centimes.

—­And besides, it is so little because it is you.  Everything is so dear here, and one does not know what to do for a living.

The poor girl remained silent; she looked at the bill without seeing it, for her eyes were full of tears.

—­Well, said Monsieur Tibulle in a wheedling tone.  Is there some little hindrance to your settling that?

—­Madame, said Zulma, I have not enough money with me; no, I do not believe I have enough money ... but I can find it, I know where to find it ... and in an hour or two....

—­Oh, oh, cried Madame Connard, in an hour or two, that is a very fine tale.  But I know it, my girl, and people don’t tell me that sort of thing.

—­Well, dear Madame, I leave you, said Monsieur Tibulle, making her a knowing sign; I am going to see if my horse is put to, for I am setting off directly.  Good-bye, little one, good-bye.  No malice.

—­Well, Mademoiselle, said Madame Connard, what do you decide?

—­I have told you, Madame, I can give you five or six francs, and, although it is a downright robbery, I will find you the rest.

-What! a robbery? you little thief, you little hussy, you dare to call me a thief, you little street-walker.  You are going to pay me immediately, or I will hand you over to the police.

—­Very well, call the police, if you wish; I ask for nothing better; I will relate what has occurred.

She considered no doubt that she was wrong, for she cried: