"Will you hold your tongue!" he cried, with a wild thought of strangling
her. "I'm a friend, I'm not the man; I won't touch you. Perine, Perine,
don't cry out so, look at me!"
At this appeal she hid her eyes with her hands.
"The man! the man! Mother! Help!" Nevertheless, though it seemed to poor
Jean that the very streets must tingle with her cries, it is possible,
for the upper-stories of the house had early risers for their dwellers,
that the deaf old woman left on the fifth floor might have heard
nothing; but unfortunately M. Plon had taken it into his head to make a
visitation to those uninhabited rooms of his in which some one had
housed his furniture, and at this moment was on his way. He knew that
Madame Didier was out, and Perine's screams seemed to point to fire or
something equally disastrous. The door was locked, but he had all his
keys about him, and soon succeeded in opening it, when Perine in a
transport of terror rushed at him, and flung herself into his arms with
a force which might have knocked over a less ponderous rescuer, and
effectually blocked the door at which Jean glanced longingly.
"_Hola!_" cried the astonished landlord. "_Que diable!_ A man in
Madame Didier's room! What's the meaning of all this? Police!"
Jean advanced with a threatening gesture, and the valiant Plon quickly
retreated.
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