He put on his spectacles, broke the seal of the envelope with the respectful anxiety of a vizier receiving a sultan's firman, and began to read the dispatch.

At the first line a frightful grimace ploughed his fat, monk-like cheeks with crimson furrows, and his little eyes flashed sparks that seemed ready to set fire to his bushy wig.

In fact, all his features were so turned upside-down that you would have said his countenance had just suffered a shock of face-quake.
For these were the contents of the letter bearing the ministerial stamp, brought by a dragoon--orderly, and for which Durand had given the government a receipt: "Friend landlord: Politeness-who, according to ancient mythology, is the grandmother of good manners--compels me to inform you that I am under the cruel necessity of not conforming to the prevalent custom of paying rent--prevalent especially when the rent is due.

Up to this morning I had cherished the hope of being able to celebrate this fair day by the payments of my three quarters.

Vain chimera, bitter illusion! While I was slumbering on the pillow of confidence, ill-luck--what the Greeks call _ananke_--was scattering my hopes.