the end of my forbearance. Since this morning I have been making
superhuman efforts to restrain myself, but it would take very little now
to make my anger burst all bonds, and woe to the man on whom it falls!
I am quite capable of killing some one. Come! Be off at once!--"

There was such an intonation in his son-in-law's voice, and the way that
son-in-law shook him as he spoke was so eloquent, that Monsieur Chebe was
fully convinced. He even stammered an apology. Certainly Risler had
good reason for acting as he had. All honorable people would be on his
side. And he backed toward the door as he spoke. When he reached it,
he inquired timidly if Madame Chebe's little allowance would be
continued.

"Yes," was Risler's reply, "but never go beyond it, for my position here
is not what it was. I am no longer a partner in the house."

Monsieur Chebe stared at him in amazement, and assumed the idiotic
expression which led many people to believe that the accident that had
happened to him--exactly like that of the Duc d'Orleans, you know--was
not a fable of his own invention; but he dared not make the slightest
observation. Surely some one had changed his son-in-law. Was this
really Risler, this tiger-cat, who bristled up at the slightest word
and talked of nothing less than killing people?

He took to his heels, recovered his self-possession at the foot of the
stairs, and walked across the courtyard with the air of a conqueror.

When all the rooms were cleared and empty, Risler walked through them for
the last time, then took the key and went down to Planus's office to hand
it to Madame Georges.