Satisfied now that the "suspect" whom they were searching for was not on the premises, the sergeant stationed four of his men with the corporal outside the door, and two within, and himself sitting down in the centre of the room ordered the two women to stand before him and to answer his questions clearly on pain of being dragged away forthwith to the St. Lazare house of detention.
Petite maman smoothed out her apron, crossed her arms before her, and looked the sergeant quite straight in the face. Rosette's eyes were full of tears, but she showed no signs of fear either, although her shoulder—where one of the gendarmes had seized it so roughly—was terribly painful.
"Your husband, citizeness," asked the sergeant peremptorily, "where is he?"
"I am not sure, citizen," replied petite maman. "At this hour he is generally at the government works in the Quai des Messageries."
"He is not there now," asserted the sergeant. "We have knowledge that he did not go back to his work since dinner-time."
Petite maman was silent.
"Answer," ordered the sergeant.
"I cannot tell you more, citizen sergeant," she said firmly. "I do not know."
"You do yourself no good, woman, by this obstinacy," he continued roughly. "My belief is that your husband is inside this house, hidden away somewhere. If necessary I can get orders to have every apartment searched until he is found: but in that case it will go much harder with you and with your daughter, and much harder too with your husband than if he gave us no trouble and followed us quietly."
But with sublime confidence in the man who had saved Pierre and who had given her explicit orders as to what she should do, petite maman, backed by Rosette, reiterated quietly: