The door opened as she uttered the words, and Madame Plessis and Julia entered the room. They also had learned the news from Rose; for Julia, kissing her friend kindly, wished her joy of the happy intelligence.
“But now, dear Mabel, put on a grave, or rather, a careless face; for Sergeant Perrin is waiting for you both in the green-room.”
Mabel gave a slight shudder; but, looking up with a smile, said—
“I am ready; I feel no fear when with my good brother Philip;” and putting her arm within Lieutenant Thornton’s, they left the room, and proceeded to a chamber where Sergeant François Perrin awaited them, seated at a table, on which stood a half-emptied decanter of Cognac and some dried fruit and cakes; for Julia Plessis knew the worthy gendarme’s love for “une petite verrée.”
Sergeant Perrin rose. He was not at all the worse for the refreshment he had partaken of at Dame Moret’s, nor the ample addition he had just imbibed; but his cheeks, and especially that interesting feature, his nose, showed a great increase of colour.
“Well, sergeant,” said Lieutenant Thornton, “you are come, I hear, to pay us the usual visit, and inspect our papers. All right; there is nothing like regularity, and knowing who you have in your district in these times.”
“Oui, monsieur, oui. You have a reasonable idea of our duty—not always a very pleasant one; but mademoiselle here,” turning to Julia, “always makes the château a pleasant place to visit.”
As he spoke, he placed his book on the table before him, and then very politely requested Monsieur de Tourville to let him have a look at his papers.
Sergeant Perrin read the paper presented, compared it with some remarks in his book; and, with a bow returned it, saying—
“Quite correct, monsieur; but, if you please, I must just have a look at your man, Pierre Bompart—a mere form, but it’s my duty, and Monsieur le Maire requires an exact performance of my official duties.”