into the street. Somehow the commonplace, trivial interruption produced
on both a strange, even startling effect. It suddenly produced in their
minds a feeling of apprehension, as though there was whispered in their
ears, "Something is going to happen--beware!"

Rat-tat-tat! The two men looked at each other. The same thought was in
the mind of both. Jean Jacques clutched at his beard nervously, then
with an effort he controlled himself. He took off his hat as though he
was about to greet some important person, or to receive sentence in a
court. Instinctively he felt the little book of philosophy which he
always carried now in his breast-pocket, as a pietist would finger his
beads in moments of fear or anxiety. The Clerk of the Court passed his
thin hand over his hair, as he was wont to do in court when the Judge
began his charge to the Jury, and then with an action more impulsive than
was usual with him, he held out his hand, and Jean Jacques grasped it.
Something was bringing them together just when it seemed that, in the
storm of Jean Jacques' indignation, they were about to fall apart.
M. Fille's eyes said as plainly as words could do, "Courage, my friend!"

Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat! The knocking was sharp and imperative now.
The Clerk of the Court went quickly forward and threw open the door.

There stepped inside the widow of Palass Poucette. She had a letter in
her hand. "M'sieu', pardon, if I intrude," she said to M. Fille; "but I
heard that M'sieu' Jean Jacques was here. I have news for him."

"News!" repeated Jean Jacques, and he looked like a man who was waiting
for what he feared to hear. "They told me at the post-office that you
were here. I got the letter only a quarter of an hour ago, and I thought
I would go at once to the Manor Cartier and tell M'sieu' Jean Jacques