This last word was too much for Gaston.
“Then your wish shall be gratified, monsieur. I will remain here, and be arrested. I care not what becomes of me! What is life to me without the hope of Valentine? Take back these jewels: they are useless now.”
A terrible scene would have taken place between the father and son, had they not been interrupted by a domestic who rushed into the room, and excitedly cried:
“The gendarmes! here are the gendarmes!”
At this news the old marquis started up, and seemed to forget his gout, which had yielded to more violent emotions.
“Gendarmes!” he cried, “in my house at Clameran! They shall pay dear for their insolence! You will help me, will you not, my men?”
“Yes, yes,” answered the servants. “Down with the gendarmes! down with them!”
Fortunately Louis, during all this excitement, preserved his presence of mind.
“To resist would be folly,” he said. “Even if we repulsed the gendarmes to-night, they would return to-morrow with reinforcements.”
“Louis is right,” said the marquis, bitterly. “Might is right, as they said in ‘93. The gendarmes are all powerful. Do they not even have the impertinence to come up to me while I am hunting, and ask to see my shooting-license?—I, a Clameran, show a license!”