"It is I, sir," said Mademoiselle de Fargas; "and if you have anything to do with it, I should be much obliged if you would aid my carriage to enter La Guerche as soon as possible. I am in haste."
"Ah! you are in haste," said a thin, dried-up little man, dressed in the ignoble carmagnole or jacket which had not been worn for the last two years or so. He was white with rage. "Ah! you are in haste! Well, you will have to get out of your carriage, and you will have to go on foot—if so be that we let you go at all."
"Postilion!" said Diane, "lower the top of the carriage."
The postilion obeyed. The young girl threw aside her veil, disclosing her marvellous face.
"Can it be, perchance, that I am talking to citizen François Groulin?" asked she mockingly.
"I believe you are mocking me," said the little man, darting toward the carriage, and arranging the red cap, now out of fashion for some time, but which citizen François Groulin had determined to bring into fashion again in the provinces. "Well, yes, it is I. What have you to say to me?"
And he stretched out his hand toward her as if he would take her by the throat. Diane sprang to the other side of the carriage.
"In the first place," said she, "if you must touch me, which I do not think at all necessary, put on gloves. I detest dirty hands."
Citizen Groulin summoned four men, presumably to order them to seize the beautiful traveller; but from a secret pocket in her satchel Diane had drawn out the safe-conduct which Barras had given her.
"I beg your pardon, citizen," she said, still mocking him, "but do you know how to read?"