The Count of Monte Cristo

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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."