“You see, captain, the bridge is up, and more, the moat is wide and deep, and full of water,” said the recorder.
Captain Georges carefully examined the entrances of the place; after a few moments of silence, he pulled his moustache on the left side violently,—a sure sign of his disappointment.
A sentinel, standing inside the court, seeing the glitter of arms in the moonlight, cried, in a loud voice:
“Who goes there? Answer, or I will fire!”
The recorder jumped back three steps, hid himself behind the captain, and replied, in a high voice:
“In the name of the king and the cardinal, I, Master Isnard, recorder of the admiralty of Toulon, command you to lower this bridge!”
“You will not depart?” said the voice. At the same time a light shone from one of the loopholes for guns which defended the entrance. It was easy to judge that the sentinel was blowing the match of his musket.
“Take care!” cried Isnard. “Your master will be held responsible for what you are going to do!”
This warning made the soldier reflect; he fired his musket in the air, at the same time crying the word of alarm in a stentorian voice.
“He has fired on the king’s soldiers!” cried the recorder, pale with anger and fright “It is an act of armed rebellion. I saw it. Clerk, make a note of that act!”