Minard was announced.

“My dear friends,” he said, “I have come to make a little revelation which will greatly surprise you, and will, I think, prove a lesson to all of us when a question arises as to receiving foreigners in our homes.”

“What is it?” cried Brigitte, with curiosity.

“That Hungarian woman you were so delighted with, that Madame Torna, Comtesse de Godollo—­”

“Well?” exclaimed the old maid.

“Well,” continued Minard, “she was no better than she should be; you were petting in your house for two months the most impudent of kept women.”

“Who told you that tale?” asked Brigitte, not willing to admit that she had fallen into such a snare.

“Oh, it isn’t a tale,” said the mayor, eagerly.  “I know the thing myself, ‘de visu.’”

“Dear me! do you frequent such women?” said Brigitte, resuming the offensive.  “That’s a pretty thing! what would Zelie say if she knew it?”

“In the discharge of my duties,” said Minard, stiffly, provoked at this reception of his news, “I have seen your friend, Madame de Godollo, in company with others of her class.”

“How do you know it was she if you only saw her?” demanded Brigitte.

The wily Provencal was not the man to lose an occasion that fell to him ready-made.

“Monsieur le maire is not mistaken,” he said, with decision.

“Tiens! so you know her, too,” said Brigitte; “and you let us consort with such vermin?”

“No,” said la Peyrade, “on the contrary.  Without scandal, without saying a word to any one, I removed her from your house.  You remember how suddenly the woman left it?  It was I who compelled her to do so; having discovered what she was, I gave her two days to leave the premises; threatening her, in case she hesitated, to tell you all.”

“My dear Theodose,” said Thuillier, pressing his hand, “you acted with as much prudence as decision.  This is one more obligation that we owe to you.”

“You see, mademoiselle,” said la Peyrade, addressing Celeste, “the strange protectress whom a friend of yours selected.”

“Thank God,” said Madame Thuillier.  “Felix Phellion is above such vile things.”

“Ah ca! papa Minard, we’ll keep quiet about all this; silence is the word.  Will you take a cup of tea?”

“Willingly,” replied Minard.

“Celeste,” said the old maid, “ring for Henri, and tell him to put the large kettle on the fire.”

Though the visit to the notary was not to be made till two in the afternoon, Brigitte began early in the morning of the next day what Thuillier called her rampage, a popular term which expresses that turbulent, nagging, irritating activity which La Fontaine has described so well in his fable of “The Old Woman and her Servants.”  Brigitte declared that if you didn’t take time by the forelock no one would be ready.  She prevented Thuillier from going to his office, insisting that if he once got off she never should see him again; she plagued Josephine, the cook, about hurrying the breakfast, and in spite of what had happened the day before she scarcely restrained herself from nagging at Madame Thuillier, who did not enter, as she thought she should have done, into her favorite maxim, “Better be early than late.”