I did not wait for the discussion that followed, but stole quietly away as the disputants were waxing warm. Instead of turning into the cour again, however, I passed out into a corridor, at the end of which was a door of green cloth. Pushing open this, I found myself in a chamber, where a single clerk was writing at a table.
‘You’re late to-day, and he’s not in a good-humour,’ said he, scarcely looking up from his paper. ‘Go in!’
Resolving to see my adventure to the end, I asked no further questions, but passed on to the room beyond. A person who stood within the doorway withdrew as I entered, and I found myself standing face to face with the Marquis de Maurepas, or, to speak more properly, the Minister Fouché. He was standing at the fireplace as I came in, reading a newspaper, but no sooner had he caught sight of me than he laid it down, and, with his hands crossed behind his back, continued steadily staring at me.
‘Diable! exclaimed he, at last, ‘how came you here?’ ‘Nothing more naturally, sir, than from the wish to restore what you were so good as to lend me, and express my sincere gratitude for a most hospitable reception.’ ‘But who admitted you?’
‘I fancy your saddle-cloth was my introduction, sir, for it was speedily recognised. Gesler’s cap was never held in greater honour.’
‘You are a very courageous young gentleman, I must say—very courageous, indeed,’ said he, with a sardonic grin that was anything but encouraging.
‘The better chance that I may find favour with Monsieur de Fouché,’ replied I.
‘That remains to be seen, sir,’ said he, seating himself in his chair, and motioning me to a spot in front of it. ‘Who are you?’
‘A lieutenant of the Ninth Hussars, sir; by name Maurice Tiernay.’
‘I don’t care for that,’ said he impatiently; ‘what’s your occupation?—how do you live?—with whom do you associate?’