“Monsieur de Trélan—or Monsieur de Kersaint, as you prefer—will you have the kindness to follow me?”
Gaston, coldly amused, surveyed him for a moment. “No, Monsieur, I must beg to decline,” he said. “Your zeal is admirable, but misplaced.” And he laid his hand on the back of his chair, with a view, evidently, to sitting down again.
“You deny then that you are de Kersaint, the general of Finistère?”
“Not for a moment!”
“Then,” said the officer with a gesture, “it is my unpleasant duty to arrest you. You will be wise, as you see, not to resist.”
The Duc de Trélan relinquished his hold of the chair and drew himself up. “You must be dreaming, Monsieur,” he retorted. “You have no power to arrest me. I am on my way to Vannes under General Brune’s safe-conduct. You must know that, since you know who I am.”
For all reply the officer turned and beckoned to the rest. But his companion was already there beside him, and from every quarter of the room the other Republicans were hurrying, between the tables, to that table in the corner behind which stood their quarry, alone.
“I have a safe-conduct,” repeated Gaston very haughtily. “Am I not speaking to Frenchmen?—I have this also!” He took a step or two backwards, and his sword sprang out.
“You had better come without resistance, Monsieur de Kersaint,” said the officer of dragoons menacingly. “I have a squadron of my men out there within hail, and these gentlemen, you can see, are in receipt of the same orders. As for your aide-de-camp——” He snapped his fingers.
But Camain, pushing his bulky form through the onlookers, here broke in. “Look here, gentlemen, this officer says he has a safe-conduct. Give him at least the chance of showing it!”