A few moments previous to his emerging from the forest L’Ours had awakened Sidonie, and she, now entirely rested, had urged him to go on and let her follow slowly. This he did, and with giant strides he soon came in sight of the conveyance all ready to take to Avallon Bruno, who stood on the doorstep in custody of a gendarme, with an excited crowd around him. In another moment he stood beside Monsieur Bérard, to whom he said: “You must not imprison that man!”
“Why? What have you to say about it?”
“I come to prove to you that Bruno is innocent of this crime, and I am convinced that you will set him at liberty.”
The aspect of Jean Manant was not calculated to gain confidence. His dark, swarthy skin, keen black eyes, and brawny arms did not fascinate the average person. And the magistrate was not prepossessed in his favor.
“Listen,” said L’Ours. “I am not here to make trouble. But I must defend young Bruno. Neither you nor your gendarmes can take him away if I say he shall not go.”
“Insolent——”
“No, I am not insolent, Monsieur. It is the truth. Ask anybody here. Ask Andoche, for instance.”
Andoche, leaning toward Monsieur Bérard, said: “A blow from his fist would prostrate any man here. No one would dare stand up against him.”
“Yes, yes; but what are his intentions?”
“We shall see presently.”