"Bah!" M. d'Anquetil exclaimed, "we'll lick them."

My dear tutor took the precaution to put one bottle in one of his
pockets, and as an equipoise another bottle in the other pocket. The
house shook all over from the furious knocks. M. d'Anquetil, whose
military qualities were aroused by the knocker's onslaught, after
reconnoitring, exclaimed:

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Do you know who knocks? It is M. de la Gueritude with
his full-bottomed periwig and two big flunkeys carrying lighted
torches."

"That's not possible," said Catherine, "at this very moment he is in
bed with his old woman."

"Then it is his ghost," said M. d'Anquetil. "And the ghost also
wears his periwig, which is so ridiculous that any self-respecting
spectre would refuse to copy it."

"Do you speak the truth, and not jeer at me?" asked Catherine." Is
it really M. de la Gueritude?"

"It's himself, Catherine, if I may believe my own eyes/'

"Then I am lost!" exclaimed the poor girl. "Women are indeed
unhappy! They are never left in peace. What will become of me? Would
you not hide, gentlemen, in some of the cupboards?"

"That could be done," said M. Jerome Coignard, "as far as we are