Dard, however, did not see her, his back being turned to her as he sat; so he replied at his ease,-- "I consent," said he very coolly: "that is your affair; but permit me," and here he clenched his teeth at remembrance of his wrongs, "to say that I will no more be a scullery man without wages to these high-minded starvelings, these illustrious beggars." Then he heated himself red-hot.
"I will not even be their galley slave.

Next, I have done my last little odd job in this world," yelled the now infuriated factotum, bouncing up to his feet in brief fury.

"Of two things one: either Jacintha quits those aristos, or I leave Jacin--eh ?--ah!--oh!--ahem! How--'ow d'ye do, Jacintha ?" And his roar ended in a whine, as when a dog runs barking out, and receives in full career a cut from his master's whip, his generous rage turns to whimper with ludicrous abruptness.

"I was just talking of you, Jacintha," quavered Dard in conclusion.
"I heard you, Dard," replied Jacintha slowly, softly, grimly.
Dard withered.
It was a lusty young woman, with a comely peasant face somewhat freckled, and a pair of large black eyes surmounted by coal-black brows.
She stood in a bold attitude, her massive but well-formed arms folded so that the pressure of each against the other made them seem gigantic, and her cheek red with anger, and her eyes glistening like basilisks upon citizen Dard.

She looked so grand, with her lowering black brows, that even Riviere felt a little uneasy.