“Your aim is easily seen through.  I should scorn to reply, but that you are the wife of the man who, till you set him against me, was glad to call himself my friend and protector, and who is also related to me.  As usual, you attribute to me an unworthy motive.  In showing me the door of this room consecrated by suffering, you are turning me out of your house, which you and your son—­for I must say it for once—­have made a hell to me.”

“I!  And my—­No! this is indeed—­” exclaimed the matron in panting rage.  She clasped her hands over her heaving bosom and her pale face was dyed crimson, while her eyes flashed wrathful lightnings.  “That is too much; a thousand times too much—­a thousand times—­do you hear?—­And I—­I condescend to answer you!  We picked her up in the street, and have treated her like a daughter, spent enormous sums on her, and now. . . .”

This was addressed to the leech rather than to Paula; but she took up the gauntlet and replied in a tone of unqualified scorn: 

“And now I plainly declare, as a woman of full age, free to dispose of myself, that to-morrow morning I leave this house with everything that belongs to me, even if I should go as a beggar;—­this house, where I have been grossly insulted, where I and my faithful servant have been falsely condemned, and where he is even now about to be murdered.”

“And where you have been dealt with far too mildly,” Neforis shrieked at her audacious antagonist, “and preserved from sharing the fate of the robber you smuggled into the house.  To save a criminal—­it is unheard of:—­you dared to accuse the son of your benefactor of being a corrupt judge.”

“And so he is,” exclaimed Paula furious.  “And what is more, he has inveigled the child whom you destine to be his wife into bearing false witness.  More—­much more could I say, but that, even if I did not respect the mother, your husband has deserved that I should spare him.”

“Spare him-spare!” cried Neforis contemptuously.  “You—­you will spare us!  The accused will be merciful and spare the judge!  But you shall be made to speak;—­aye, made to speak!  And as to what you, a slanderer, can say about false witness. . .”

“Your own granddaughter,” interrupted the leech, “will be compelled to repeat it before all the world, noble lady, if you do not moderate yourself.”

Neforis laughed hysterically.

“So that is the way the wind blows!” she exclaimed, quite beside herself.  “The sick-room is a temple of Bacchus and Venus; and this disgraceful conduct is not enough, but you must conspire to heap shame and disgrace on this righteous house and its masters.”

Then, resting her left hand which held the reliquary on her hip, she added with hasty vehemence: 

“So be it.  Go away; go wherever you please!  If I find you under this roof to-morrow at noon, you thankless, wicked girl, I will have you turned out into the streets by the guard.  I hate you—­for once I will ease my poor, tormented heart—­I loathe you; your very existence is an offence to me and brings misfortune on me and on all of us; and besides—­besides, I should prefer to keep the emeralds we have left.”