as I surveyed Madame, stranded beside her empty- boxes, deader than if she had been really dead, â€” for she was conscious of this death, the most hor- rible death conceivable to a being â– who had never loved anything but the valuation in money of those invaluable things, â€” our pleasures, our caprices, our charities, our love, the divine luxury of the soul. This shameful sorrow, this crapulous dejection, was also a revenge for the humiliations and severities that I have undergone, that came to me from her, in every word that issued from her mouth, in every look that fell from her eyes. This deliciously grim enjoyment I tasted to the full. I would have liked to cry out : ' ' Well done ! Well done ! ' ' And, above all, I would have liked to know these admirable and sublime thieves, in order to thank them in the name of all the ragamuf&ns, and to em- brace them, as brothers. Oh ! good thieves, dear figures of justice and pity, through what a series of intense and delightful sensations you have made me pass!
Madame was not slow in recovering her self- possession. Her combative, aggressive nature suddenly reawakened in all its violence.
"And what are you doing here? " she said to Monsieur, in a tone of anger and supreme scorn. "Why are you here? How ridiculous you are, with your big puffy face, and in your shirt-tail! Do you think that will get us back our