"You are all thieves," I cried; "you are all pimps!"
And I went away, threatening them with the commissary of police and the justice of the peace.
"Oh! you are looking for trouble? Yes, well, you shall have it, scoundrels that you are!"
Alas! the commissary of police pretended that the affair did not concern him. The justice of the peace advised me to let it drop. He explained:
"In the first place, Mademoiselle, you will not be believed. And that is as it should be. What would become of society if a servant could be right against a master? There would be no more society, Mademoiselle. That would be anarchy."
I consulted a lawyer; he demanded two hundred francs. I wrote to M. Xavier; he did not answer me. Then I counted up my resources. I had three francs fifty left—and the street pavement.
