"Naughty boy!" said the painter, with a comical look; "run away,
naughty little boy!"
"Look here," said Bianchon; "if you do not go, all the rest of us
will," and the boarders, to a man, made for the sitting-room-door.
"Oh! mademoiselle, what is to be done?" cried Mme. Vauquer. "I am a
ruined woman. You can't stay here; they will go further, do something
violent."
Mlle. Michonneau rose to her feet.
"She is going!--She is not going!--She is going!--No, she isn't."
These alternate exclamations, and a suggestion of hostile intentions,
borne out by the behavior of the insurgents, compelled Mlle.
Michonneau to take her departure. She made some stipulations, speaking
in a low voice in her hostess' ear, and then--"I shall go to Mme.
Buneaud's," she said, with a threatening look.
"Go where you please, mademoiselle," said Mme. Vauquer, who regarded
this choice of an opposition establishment as an atrocious insult. "Go
and lodge with the Buneaud; the wine would give a cat the colic, and
the food is cheap and nasty."
The boarders stood aside in two rows to let her pass; not a word was
spoken. Poiret looked so wistfully after Mlle.
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