“This is rather too much, and the fellow shall find out what going out of the window means, if he will not leave by the door.”  But in the ante-room he found himself face to face with a very cool, polite, impassive gentleman, who said very quietly to him: 

“You are Count Robert de Bordenave, I believe.  Monsieur?”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

“And the lease that you signed at the lawyer’s, Monsieur Albin Calvert, in the Rue du Faubourg-Poissonniere, is in your name, I believe?”

“Certainly, Monsieur.”

“Then I regret extremely to have to tell you that if you are not in a position to pay the various accounts which different people have intrusted to me for collection here, I shall be obliged to seize all the furniture, pictures, plate, clothes etc., which are here, in the presence of two witnesses who are waiting for me downstairs in the street.”

“I suppose this is some joke, Monsieur?”

“It would be a very poor joke, Monsieur le Comte, and one which I should certainly not allow myself towards you!”

The situation was absolutely critical and ridiculous, the more so, that in the dining-room the women who were slightly elevated, were tapping the wine glasses with their spoons, and calling for him.  What could he do except to explain his misadventure to Quillanet, who became sobered immediately, and rather than see his shrine of love violated, his secret sin disclosed and his pictures, ornaments and furniture sold, gave a check in due form for the claim there and then, though with a very wry face.  And in spite of this, some people will deny that men who are utterly cleared out, often have a stroke of luck.

THE ACCENT

It was a large, upholstered house, with long white terraces shaded by vines, from which one could see the sea.  Large pines stretched a dark dome over the sacked facade, and there was a look of neglect, of want and wretchedness about it all, such as irreparable losses, departures to other countries, and death leave behind them.

The interior wore a strange look, with half unpacked boxes serving for wardrobes, piles of band boxes, and for seats there was an array of worm-eaten armchairs, into which bits of velvet and silk, which had been cut from old dresses, had been festooned anyhow, and along the walls there were rows of rusty nails which made one think of old portraits and of pictures full of associations, which had one by one been bought for a low price by some second-hand furniture broker.

The rooms were in disorder and furnished no matter how, while velvets were hanging from the ceilings and in the corners, and seemed to show that as the servants were no longer paid except by hopes, they no longer did more than give them an accidental, careless touch with the broom occasionally.  The drawing-room, which was extremely large, was full of useless knick-knacks, rubbish which is put up for sale at stalls at watering places, daubs, they could not be called paintings of portraits and of flowers, and an old piano with yellow keys.