“Seven—four men and three women.”
“You haven’t housed or concealed any one here this evening?”
“No one.”
“It will be necessary to prove that,” rejoined the captain; and turning towards the door he called, “Corporal Bavois, step here!”
This corporal proved to be one of the old soldiers who had followed the emperor all over Europe. Two tiny, but piercing grey eyes lighted his tanned, weather-beaten face, and an immense hooked nose surmounted a heavy, bristling moustache. “Bavois,” commanded the officer, “take half a dozen men and search this house from top to bottom. You are an old fox, and if there be any hiding-place here, you will be sure to discover it. If you find any one concealed here, bring the person to me. Go, and make haste!”
The corporal saluted and turned on his heels; while the captain walked towards Maurice: “And now,” said he, “what have you been doing this evening?”
The young man hesitated for a moment: then, with well-feigned indifference, replied: “I have not put my head out of doors.”
“Hum! that must be proved. Let me see your hands.”
The soldier’s tone was so offensive that Maurice felt the blood rise to his forehead. Fortunately a warning glance from the abbe made him restrain himself. He offered his hands for inspection, and the captain, after examining them carefully on either side, took the final precaution to smell them. “Ah!” quoth he, “these hands are too white and smell too sweet to have been dabbling with powder.”
At the same time he was somewhat surprised that this young man should have so little courage as to remain by the fireside at home, while his father was leading the peasants on to battle. “Another thing,” said he: “you must have some weapons here?”