"We are bound bailiffs, come to lay hold of you; now are you fly?"
"Morel, it is the note of Louise's master! We are undone!" exclaimed Madeleine, in a tone of agony.
"Hear the judgment," said Malicorne, taking from his dirty and crammed pocketbook a stamped writ.
After having skimmed over, according to custom, a part of this document in an unintelligible tone, he distinctly articulated the last words, which were, unfortunately, but too important to the artisan:
"Judgment finally given. The Tribunal condemns Jérome Morel to pay to Pierre Petit-Jean, merchant,[6] by every available means, even to the arrest of body, the sum of 1,300 francs, with interest from the day of protest, and to pay all other and extra costs. Given and judged at Paris, 13 September, etc., etc."
[6] The cunning notary, unable to prosecute in his own name, had made the unfortunate Morel give a blank acceptance, and had filled up the note of hand with the name of a third party.
"And Louise! Louise!" cried Morel, almost distracted in his brain, and apparently unheeding the long preamble which had just been read. "Where is Louise, then, for, doubtless, she has quitted the notary, since he sends me to prison? My child! My Louise! What has become of you?"
"Who the devil is Louise?" asked Bourdin.
"Let him alone!" replied Malicorne, brutally; "don't you see the respectable old twaddler is not right in his nonsense-box?" Then, approaching Morel, he added: "I say, my fine fellow, right about file! March on! Let us get out of here, will you, and have a little fresh air. You stink enough to poison a cat in this here hole!"
"Morel!" shrieked Madeleine, wildly, "don't go! Kill those wretches! Oh, you coward, not to knock them down! What! are you going to let them take you away? Are you going to abandon us all?"