The applause was as loud as before.
“And if we do not promise to leave you in quiet enjoyment of your fête—what then?” asked another of the young nobles.
“As, by that act, you will prove that you are not good citizens, and that you are desirous of breaking the public peace, we shall ask you to leave the town quietly; and; if you refuse, we will expel you by force.”
“Bravo! bravo!” cried all.
M. de Malmy interrogated his companions with his eyes; and as he saw the same expression in all theirs, “Messieurs,” said he, “I regret that, in the name of my friend and myself, I must refuse the great honor that you offer us. I regret, also, that we cannot pledge our word not to interrupt the fête, as we are not sufficient philosophers to avoid breaking our promise; so—as we have no further business to detain us in town—we ask your permission to make our most respectful adieu, and to go and seek our pleasure elsewhere.”
“As you wish, M. le Viscount,” said M. Drouet. “You are free to go.” Then, assuming the tone of command which sat so well on him, he said, “Allow these gentlemen to pass, and preserve complete silence; the one who passes a remark, will have to answer for it to me.”
Not a sound could be heard.
In the midst of this oppressive silence, the young nobles remounted their horses, and returned by the way that they had arrived.
No word was spoken, no movement made; but the people followed the little party with their eyes until they finally disappeared from view on turning into the road leading to Clermont.
Then a voice was heard, calm, but commanding in its tones. It was Drouet’s.