In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. "Square accounts with the rascal who got up the sham arrest; and, if he don't tip the cole without more ado, give him a taste of the pump, that's all.
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