"Citizen Beauvallon," said he, in a voice whose tremor betrayed his native timidity, "I arrest you in the name of the revolutionary committee of Toulouse. Citizen Beauvallon, it is useless to resist the authority of the representatives of the people; if you have any concealed weapons about you, I advise you to surrender them. You see I stand here protected by the arms of the people."
"I have no weapons," replied Beauvallon. "I have no sinister designs. I know not why I am arrested. Acquaint me with the charge, and confront me with my accusers."
"Seize upon the prisoner!" cried Dumart to his satellites. And he breathed freer when he saw the merchant in the gripe of two muscular ruffians, whose iron hands compressed his wrists as if they were manacles.
"Away with him!" screamed the hag who had spoken before. "Away with him to the revolutionary committee! Down with the aristocrats!"
Followed by the imprecations of the crowd, Beauvallon was conducted to the town house, and in a very few moments was placed at the bar of the revolutionary committee—a body invested with the power of life and death. On his way thither he had found means to speak a word to an acquaintance in the crowd, and to beg him to inform Eulalie of what had happened.
So soon as he had heard the accusation read, and knew that he was charged with the crime of aiding the Marquis de Montmorenci, a fugitive from justice, he felt that his situation was indeed critical; but mingled with his astonishment and dread was a curiosity to learn whence his denunciation could have proceeded—who could have lodged the information against him. He was not long kept in suspense, for the witness brought on the stand to confront him was no other than Mannette, the supposed deaf servant of Eulalie Lasalle, who had overheard his confession of the morning, and hastened to denounce him. Though his sentence was not immediately pronounced, and the decision of his case was deferred till the next day, Beauvallon felt that his doom was sealed.
He was conveyed to a house in the vicinity of the town hall for confinement, as the prisons were all overstocked. His jailer was a man whom the merchant had formerly befriended, and whose heart was not inaccessible to emotions of pity, though he was above bribery, and evidently determined to execute his duty to the letter.
"I have a favor to ask of you, my friend," said the prisoner, slipping a golden louis into his hand.
"If it is one that I can grant without violating my duty," replied the jailer, returning the money to Beauvallon, "I will do so for the sake of old times, but not for gold."
Beauvallon explained that he wished to send a note to Mlle. Lasalle, requesting her to visit him in prison—an interview which would probably be their last, and the jailer undertook readily to see the missive delivered, and to permit the visit. The note having been despatched, Beauvallon sat down to wait for the arrival of his mistress.