‘My guard is now going round the Rue du Puits qui Parle,’ replied the bourgeois, ‘wherein is much evil congregated. I am here. Our good king Louis is The State. I am The Guard.’
‘Thank you—thank you, Maître Picard,’ said Theria. ‘I respect you, although you made me a cap last year of a villainous fabric, and told me that it was the best cloth of Louvain; you forgot I breathed my first gasp of air in Brabant. And you are sure that the guard cannot put out our lights?’
‘I have told you they are not near us,’ said the bourgeois, offended at being obliged to repeat the intelligence.
‘Excellent!’ observed Theria. ‘Philippe, close the door, and let Maître Picard take us all into custody.’
Glazer immediately obeyed the command of their chairman, whilst the others huddled round the luckless little bourgeois, who began to feel remarkably uncomfortable.
‘Respite the Gascon and hang Maître Picard in his stead, by his heels,’ said Theria.
‘I give you all warning!’ cried Picard; ‘I give you all warning! I am a quartenier and can punish you all. Keep your hands away!’
Sainte-Croix, at the first appearance of the bourgeois, had thrown his cloak over his shoulders, not wishing to be recognised in his military dress, and had retreated with Lachaussée into a corner of the room, whither Maître Picard followed him with an appealing glance, noting that his appearance was somewhat more respectable than that of the scholars.
‘I tell you, you do this at your peril,’ screamed Picard. ‘The police show no mercy to the vagabonds and mauvais garçons who maltreat an enlightened bourgeois.’
‘We thank you for the hint,’ said Theria. ‘Ho! mes enfants; in consideration of Maître Picard’s enlightenment we incline to mercy and utility. Let us hang him before the door, and save our host’s candles. La Reinie never thought of so grand an illumination as an enlightened bourgeois.’