Then she grew angry, reminding him of the promise he had given not to pay away her bills. He acknowledged it.

“But I was pressed myself; the knife was at my own throat.”

“And what will happen now?” she went on.

“Oh, it’s very simple; a judgment and then a distraint⁠—that’s about it!”

Emma kept down a desire to strike him, and asked gently if there was no way of quieting Monsieur Vinçart.

“I dare say! Quiet Vinçart! You don’t know him; he’s more ferocious than an Arab!”

Still Monsieur Lheureux must interfere.