, shrill tone which he had expected.
He was utterly routed.
"I know neither Madame Bagration nor M. Dambray," said he.
"I have never set foot in the house of either of them in my life."
The reply was ungracious.
The personage, determined to be gracious at any cost, insisted.
"Then it must have been at Chateaubriand''s that I have seen Monsieur!
I know Chateaubriand very well.
He is very affable.
He sometimes says to me:
`Thenard, my friend . . . won''t you drink a glass of wine with me?''"
Marius'' brow grew more and more severe:
"I have never had the honor of being received by M. de Chateaubriand.
Let us cut it short.
What do you want?"
The man bowed lower at that harsh voice.
"Monsieur le Baron, deign to listen to me.
There is in America, in a district near Panama, a village called la Joya.
That village is composed of a single house, a large, square house of three stories, built of bricks dried in the sun, each side of the square five hundred feet in length, each story retreating twelve feet back of the story below, in such a manner as to leave in front a terrace which makes the circuit of the edifice, in the centre an inner court where the provisions and munitions are kept; no windows, loopholes, no doors, ladders, ladders to mount from the ground to the first terrace, and from the first to the second, and from the second to the third, ladders to descend into the inner court, no doors to the chambers, trap-doors, no staircases to the chambers, ladders; in the evening the traps are closed, the ladders are withdrawn carbines and blunderbusses trained from the loopholes; no means of entering, a house by day, a citadel by night, eight hundred inhabitants,-- that is the village.