Will you be kind enough to come over some day and identify them." Saying these last words in a curt tone, lieutenant-colonel Philippe Bridau departed.

The tone of his visit made, if possible, a deeper impression on Flore's mind, and also on that of Max, than the shock they had felt at the first sight of that horrible campaigner.

As soon as Philippe had slammed the door, with the violence of a disinherited heir, Max and Flore hid behind the window-curtains to watch him as he crossed the road, to the Hochons'.
"What a vagabond!" exclaimed Flore, questioning Max with a glance of her eye.
"Yes; unfortunately there were men like him in the armies of the Emperor; I sent seven to the shades at Cabrera," answered Gilet.
"I do hope, Max, that you won't pick a quarrel with that fellow," said Mademoiselle Brazier.
"He smelt so of tobacco," complained the old man.
"He was smelling after your money-bags," said Flore, in a peremptory tone.

"My advice is that you don't let him into the house again." "I'd prefer not to," replied Rouget.
"Monsieur," said Gritte, entering the room where the Hochon family were all assembled after breakfast, "here is the Monsieur Bridau you were talking about." Philippe made his entrance politely, in the midst of a dead silence caused by general curiosity.

Madame Hochon shuddered from head to foot as she beheld the author of all Agathe's woes and the murderer of good old Madame Descoings.