The recorder Isnard, followed by his clerk, as usual, said to Captain Georges, who commanded the detachment:
“It would be prudent, captain, to try a summons before attacking by force, in order to take possession of the person of Raimond V. There are about fifty well-armed men in his lair behind good walls.”
“Eh! what matters the walls to me?”
“But, besides the walls, there is a bridge, and you see, captain, it is up.”
“Eh! what do I care for the bridge? If Raimond V. refuses to lower it—ah, well, zounds! my carabineers will assault the place; that happened more than once in the last war! If necessary, we will attach a petard to the door, but let it be understood, recorder, that, whatever happens, you are to follow us to make an official report.”
“Hum! hum!” grunted the man of law. “Without doubt, I and my clerk must assist you; I shall be able, even under that circumstance, to note the good conduct and zeal of the aforesaid clerk in charging him with this honourable mission.”
“But, Master Isnard, that is your office, and not mine!” said the unhappy clerk.
“Silence, my clerk, we are here before Maison-Forte. The moments are precious. Do you prepare to follow the captain and obey me!”
The company had, in fact, reached the end of the sycamore walk, which bordered the half-circle.
The bridge was up, and the windows opening on the interior court were brilliant with light, as the baron’s guests had departed but a little while.