The landlord was clinking about in his kitchen; the landlady was quiet at her work; and the refreshed traveller sat smoking by the stove, warming his ragged feet.
'Pardon me, madame--that Biraud.' 'Rigaud, monsieur.' 'Rigaud.

Pardon me again--has contracted your displeasure, how ?' The landlady, who had been at one moment thinking within herself that this was a handsome man, at another moment that this was an ill-looking man, observed the nose coming down and the moustache going up, and strongly inclined to the latter decision.

Rigaud was a criminal, she said, who had killed his wife.
'Ay, ay?
Death of my life, that's a criminal indeed.

But how do you know it ?' 'All the world knows it.' 'Hah! And yet he escaped justice ?' 'Monsieur, the law could not prove it against him to its satisfaction.
So the law says.

Nevertheless, all the world knows he did it.