The suffering which Maurice endured was too great for his strength and his reason. He was about to spring forward and cry:
“It was I who addressed those words to Chanlouineau. I alone am guilty; my father is innocent!”
But fortunately the abbe had the presence of mind to hold him back, and place his hand over the poor youth’s lips.
But the priest would not have been able to restrain Maurice without the aid of the retired army officers, who were standing beside him.
Divining all, perhaps, they surrounded Maurice, took him up, and carried him from the room by main force, in spite of his violent resistance.
All this occupied scarcely ten seconds.
“What is the cause of this disturbance?” inquired the duke, looking angrily over the audience.
No one uttered a word.
“At the least noise the hall shall be cleared,” added M. de Sairmeuse. “And you, prisoner, what have you to say in self-justification, after this crushing accusation by Mademoiselle de Courtornieu?”
“Nothing,” murmured the baron.