Myintendantwasstilltalkingofme。Theroomwascrowded，forRodenardalonehadbroughtwithhimmytwentyfollowers。OneoftheselookedupasIbrushedpasthim，andutteredacryofsurpriseuponrecognizingme。ButRodenardtalkedon，engrossedinhisthemetotheexclusionofallelse。
“MonsieurleMarquis。”hewassaying，“isagentlemanwhomitis，indeed，anhonourtoserve-“
Ascreamburstfromhimwiththelastword，forthelashofmywhiphadburntawhealuponhiswell-fedsides。
“Itisanhonourthatshallbeyoursnomore，youdog！“Icried。
Heleapthighintotheairasmywhipcuthimagain。Heswunground，hisfacetwistedwithpain，hisflabbycheekswhitewithfear，andhiseyeswildwithanger，forasyetthefullforceofthesituationhadnotbeenborneinuponhim。Then，seeingmethere，andcatchingsomethingoftheawfulpassionthatmusthavebeenstampeduponmyface，hedroppedonhiskneesandcriedoutsomethingthatIdidnotunderstandforIwaspastunderstandingmuchjustthen。