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- Александр Дюма
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- Стр. 404/849
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The
procurator
's
wife
shed
a
tear
.
"
Monsieur
Porthos
,
"
said
she
,
"
I
can
assure
you
that
you
have
severely
punished
me
;
and
if
in
the
time
to
come
you
should
find
yourself
in
a
similar
situation
,
you
have
but
to
apply
to
me
.
"
"
Fie
,
madame
,
fie
!
"
said
Porthos
,
as
if
disgusted
.
"
Let
us
not
talk
about
money
,
if
you
please
;
it
is
humiliating
.
"
"
Then
you
no
longer
love
me
!
"
said
the
procurator
's
wife
,
slowly
and
sadly
.
Porthos
maintained
a
majestic
silence
.
"
And
that
is
the
only
reply
you
make
?
Alas
,
I
understand
.
"
"
Think
of
the
offense
you
have
committed
toward
me
,
madame
!
It
remains
HERE
!
"
said
Porthos
,
placing
his
hand
on
his
heart
,
and
pressing
it
strongly
.
"
I
will
repair
it
,
indeed
I
will
,
my
dear
Porthos
.
"
"
Besides
,
what
did
I
ask
of
you
?
"
resumed
Porthos
,
with
a
movement
of
the
shoulders
full
of
good
fellowship
.
"
A
loan
,
nothing
more
!
After
all
,
I
am
not
an
unreasonable
man
.
I
know
you
are
not
rich
,
Madame
Coquenard
,
and
that
your
husband
is
obliged
to
bleed
his
poor
clients
to
squeeze
a
few
paltry
crowns
from
them
.
Oh
!
If
you
were
a
duchess
,
a
marchioness
,
or
a
countess
,
it
would
be
quite
a
different
thing
;
it
would
be
unpardonable
.
"
The
procurator
's
wife
was
piqued
.
