Page 351 of 867 Chapter 44. The Vendetta. - The Count of Monte Cristo

At the same moment, and in the midst of the terrifying silence which usually follows a clap of thunder, they heard a knocking at the door. Caderousse and his wife started and looked aghast at each other. `Who's there?' cried Caderousse, rising, and drawing up in a heap the gold and notes scattered over the table, and which he covered with his two hands. -- `It is I,' shouted a voice. -- `And who are you?' -- `Eh, pardieu, Joannes, the jeweller.' -- `Well, and you said I offended the good God,' said La Carconte with a horrid smile. `Why, the good God sends him back again.' Caderousse sank pale and breathless into his chair. La Carconte, on the contrary, rose, and going with a firm step towards the door, opened it, saying, as she did so -- `Come in, dear M. Joannes.' -- `Ma foi,' said the jeweller, drenched with rain, `I am not destined to return to Beaucaire to-night. The shortest follies are best, my dear Caderousse. You offered me hospitality, and I accept it, and have returned to sleep beneath your friendly roof.' Caderousse stammered out something, while he wiped away the sweat that started to his brow. La Carconte double-locked the door behind the jeweller.

		We cannot always oblige; but we can always speak obligingly. Francois Marie Arouet Voltaire