The Mysteries of Paris, vol 2 | Page 8

without further
insolence, or I will kick you to the foot of the stairs."
"Very well; here is the gold," said Malicorne, giving it to the girl; "but
mind what you are about, young man--don't fancy you are going to do
as you like with me, because you happen to be the strongest."
"That's right. Who are you, to give yourself such airs?" said Bourdin,
sheltering himself behind his companion. "Who are you?"
"Who is he? He is my tenant, the king of tenants, you foul-mouthed
wretches!" cried Mrs. Pipelet, who appeared at last, quite out of breath,

still wearing the Brutus wig. In her hand she held an earthen pot filled
with boiling soup, which she was kindly taking to the Morels.
"What does this old polecat want?" said Bourdin.
"If you dare to pass any of your blackguard remarks upon me, I'll make
you feel my nails--and my teeth too, if necessary!" screamed Mrs.
Pipelet: "and more than that, my lodger, my prince of lodgers, will
pitch you from the top to the bottom of the staircase, as he says! And I
will sweep you away like a heap of rubbish, as you are!"
"This old woman will rouse all the people in the house against us. We
are paid, and our expenses also; let us be off!" said Bourdin to
Malicorne.
"Here are your documents," said the last-named individual, throwing a
bundle of papers at Morel's feet.
"Pick them up, and deliver them properly! You are paid for being
civil," said Rudolph, seizing the bailiff with his vigorous hand, while
the other he pointed to the papers.
Convinced by this new and formidable grasp that he could not struggle
against so powerful an adversary, the bailiff stooped down grumbling,
picked up the bundle of papers, and gave them to Morel, who took
them mechanically. The lapidary believed himself under the influence
of a dream.
"Mind, young fellow, although you have an arm as strong as a porter's,
never come under our lash!" said Malicorne. Shaking his fist at
Rudolph, he nimbly jumped down the stairs, followed by his
companion, who looked behind him with fear.
Mrs. Pipelet, burning for revenge on the bailiffs, for the insults offered
to Rudolph, looked at her saucepan with an air of inspiration, and cried
out, heroically: "Morel's debts are paid; they will now have plenty to
eat, and no longer stand in need of my soup--heads!" Leaning over the
banisters, the old woman emptied the contents of her saucepan on the

backs of the bailiffs, who had just arrived at the first-floor landing.
"Oh, you are caught, I see!" added the portress. "They are soaked
through like two sops! He! he! this is capital!"
"A thousand million thunders!" cried Malicorne, wet through with Mrs.
Pipelet's culinary preparation. "Will you take care what you are about
up there, you old baggage!"
"Alfred!" retorted Mrs. Pipelet, bawling in a voice sharp enough to split
the tympanum of a deaf man. "Alfred! have at 'em, old darling! They
wanted to behave improperly to thy 'Stasie! (Anastasia). Those rascals
would take liberties with me! Pitch into them with your broom! call the
oyster-woman and the potboy next door to help you. Quick!--
quick!--after them! Murder! police! thieves! Hish!--hish!--hish! bravo!
Halloo! go it, old darling! Broom!--broom!" By way of a formidable
finish to these hootings, which she had accompanied with a violent
stamping of her feet, Mrs. Pipelet, carried away by the intoxication of
her victory, hurled from the top to the bottom of the staircase her
earthenware saucepan, which, breaking with a loud, crashing noise, the
very moment the bailiffs, stunned by the frightful cries, were taking the
stairs four at a time, added greatly to their fears.
"Ha! ha! I rayther think you have got enough for once!" cried Anastasia
laughing loudly, and folding her arms in an attitude of triumph.
While Mrs. Pipelet was thus venting her rage upon the bailiffs, Morel,
overcome with gratitude, had thrown himself at Rudolph's feet.
"Ah, sir, you have saved our lives! To whom do we owe this
unlooked-for succor?"
"'To HIM who watches over and protects honest men,' as our immortal
Beranger says."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MISS DIMPLETON.

Louise, the lapidary's daughter, was possessed of remarkable loveliness;
tall and graceful, she resembled the classic Juno for regularity of
features, and the huntress Diana for the finish of her tall figure. In spite
of her sunburned complexion, her rough and freckled hands, beautifully
formed, but hardened by domestic labor; in spite of her humble
garments, this girl possessed a nobility of exterior.
We will not attempt to describe the gratitude and surprise of this family,
so abruptly snatched from a fearful fate; in the first burst of happiness,
even the death of the little girl was forgotten. Rudolph alone remarked
the