Paillot, on the doorstep, was watching what was going on outside.
“Here is M. Roquincourt coming out of the house.”
M. Cassignol, thinking only of past events, said:
“I started at the bar. I was under the orders of M. de Clavel, who used again and again to repeat to me: ‘Grasp this maxim thoroughly: The interests of the prisoner are sacred, the interests of society are doubly sacred, the interests of justice are thrice sacred.’ Metaphysical principles had in those days more influence on men’s minds than they have nowadays.”
“That’s very true,” said M. de Terremondre.
“They are carrying away a bedside-table, some linen, and a little truck,” said Paillot. “These are doubtless articles to be used in evidence.”
M. de Terremondre, no longer able to restrain himself, went forward to watch the loading of the truck. Suddenly, knitting his brows, he exclaimed:
“Sacrebleu!”
Then, seeing Paillot’s inquiring look, he added:
“It’s nothing! nothing!”