In a little more than half an hour, she told her story, interlarded with numerous interjections and imprecations.
"Do you comprehend this judge ?" cried she.

"He must be some frantic Jacobin,--some son of the furies, who washed their hands in the blood of their king.

Ah! my friend, I read stupor and indignation in your glance.
He listened to the complaint of that impudent scoundrel whom I enabled to live by employing him! And when I addressed some severe remonstrances to this judge, as it was my duty to do, he had me turned out! Do you hear?
turned out!" At this painful recollection, she made a menacing gesture with her arm.
In her sudden movement, she struck a handsome scent bottle that her maid held in her hand.

The force of the blow sent it to the other end of the room, where it broke into pieces.
"Stupid, awkward fool!" cried the marchioness, venting her anger upon the frightened girl.
M.Daburon, bewildered at first, now endeavored to calm her exasperation.

She did not allow him to pronounce three words.
"Happily you are here," she continued; "you are always willing to serve me, I know.