I was in a dreadful rage, and did not notice Adele, who was quite afraid
of me. A police official came up to take my information, and examine
witnesses, and to draw up the case.

"How much is your time worth, sir?" he asked me.

"Five louis."

With these words I slid two louis into his hand, and he immediately wrote
down a fine of twenty louis against the lamp-maker, and then went his
way, saying,--

"Your man will be in prison in the next ten minutes." I breathed again at
the prospect of vengeance. I then begged Mdlle. Adele's pardon, who asked
mine in her turn, not knowing how I had offended her. This might have led
to some affectionate passages, but her father came in saying that the
rascal was in prison, and that everyone said I was right.

"I am perfectly ready to swear that he did the damage," said he.

"You saw him, did you?"

"No, but that's of no consequence, as everybody is sure he did it."

This piece of simplicity restored my good temper completely, and I began
to ask Moreau, as he called himself, several questions. He told me he was
a widower, that Adele was his only child, that he was going to set up in
business at Louviers, and so on.

In the course of an hour the farce turned into a tragedy, in the