"May le bon Dieu watch over you," said Robert in a solemn but respectful tone of voice.
"Merci, merci," replied the General nodding to him. "Now leave me, my good man, I am not well," and he shook his head and sighed painfully.
Robert's eyes were filled with tears as he left the room in silence.
It was after nine in the evening when the General arrived at Pierre's rooms. The latter looked out of his window to make sure that it was not a detective, or a member of the police force who stood at the door, and having assured himself on that score, he opened the door and admitted his father.
Duval quietly entered the room without saying a word. He sat down in an armchair and began by looking at Pierre, who was humming a tune, with a steady gaze.
Pierre felt very uncomfortable, and tried to avert his father's looks, but in vain. The silence was beginning to become unbearable, and picking up a newspaper he attempted to read, but the terrible look on his father's face rendered it impossible, and he flung the paper on one side.
"Now, sir, pray explain yourself," said his father very solemnly and slowly in an almost sepulchral voice. "I understand from a man who calls himself Emile Deschamps that you have not only attempted to burn Villebois's house down, but you have actually murdered his guest Professor Delapine, and that to-morrow morning you will be arrested in the name of the law."
"My dear father, what on earth are you talking about? I don't understand a word you're saying."
Pierre opened his cigarette-case, and having selected a cigarette to his satisfaction, proceeded to offer his father one.
"Don't trifle with me, sir. I have come here to demand an answer to my questions, and not to smoke cigarettes with you."