But heard you ever tell of one Charlot Tardivet, a base vassal whose wife your husband, Madame, and your father, Mademoiselle, took from him on his bridal morn?
Heard you ever tell of that poor girl--one Marie Tardivet--who died of grief as a consequence of that brutality?
But no; such matters were too trivial for your notice if you saw them, or for your memory if you ever heard tell of them.

What was the life of a peasant more than that of any other animal of the land, that the concern of it should perturb the sereneness of your aristocratic being?
Mesdames, that Charlot Tardivet am I; that Marie Tardivet was my wife.

I knew not whom you were when I bade you sup at my table but now that I know it--what do you look for at my hands ?" It was the Marquise who answered him.

She was deathly pale, and her words came breathlessly: for all that their import was very bold.
"We look for the recollection that we are women and unless you are as cowardly as--" "Citoyenne," he broke in harshly, answering her as he had answered La Boulaye, "was my wife less a woman think you?
Pah! There is yet another here who was wronged," he announced, and he waved his hand in the direction of La Boulaye, who stood, stiff and pale, by the hearth.
The women turned, and at sight of the Deputy a cry escaped Suzanne.

It was a cry of hope, for here was one who would surely lend them aid.