The recorder remained in the court with his escort, not knowing upon what course to resolve.
He looked at the unlucky door with a vague disquietude, while the old gentleman and his friends betrayed some impatience as they waited for the end of this scene.
Finally, Master Isnard, wishing to get out of an embarrassing position, turned to the baron and said, with a solemn air:
“I call to witness the people who accompany me if anything unbecoming happens to me, and you will answer, sir, for any dangerous and secret ambuscade which could hurt the dignity of the law or of justice, or our honourable person.”
“Eh, Manjour! what are you crowing about? Nobody here wishes to interfere with your office; my arms and my artillery are there: enter, examine, and count; the key is in the door!”
“Yes, yes, go in, the key is in the door,” repeated the chorus of guests, with a sneer which seemed a sinister omen to the recorder. Exasperated beyond measure, but keeping himself at a respectful distance from the door, the recorder said to his scribe:
“Clerk, go and open this door; let us make an end of—”
“But, Master Isnard—”
“Obey, clerk, obey,” said the recorder, still drawing back.
The poor scribe showed the register which he held in one hand, and the pen that he held in the other.