"Oh, Mr. Melmotte, vat is de matter?" asked the clerk.
Melmotte was out of breath and could hardly tell his story. Marie gradually recovered herself, and crouched, cowering, in a corner of a sofa, by no means vanquished in spirit, but with a feeling that the very life had been crushed out of her body. Madame Melmotte was standing weeping copiously, with her handkerchief up to her eyes. "Will you sign the papers?" Melmotte demanded. Marie, lying as she was, all in a heap, merely shook her head. "Pig!" said Melmotte,--"wicked, ungrateful pig."

"Oh, Mr. Melmotte, vat is de matter?" asked the clerk.
Melmotte was out of breath and could hardly speak. Marie crouched, cowering, in a corner of a sofa, by no means vanquished in spirit, but feeling that the very life had been crushed out of her body. Madame Melmotte was weeping copiously.
"Will you sign the papers?" Melmotte demanded. Marie, lying all in a heap, merely shook her head. "Pig!" said Melmotte, "wicked, ungrateful pig."
