“Well, my friend,” said she, closing this long interview with much dignity, “I never shall marry any one but you. I would rather believe in you than in other men, in my father and mother—no woman ever gave greater proof of attachment surely?—Now, try to counteract the fatal prejudices which militate against you.”
Just then the tramp of galloping horses was heard, and, to the great amazement of the ladies, a force of gendarmes surrounded the little party.
“What do you want?” said Lucien, with the arrogance of a dandy.
“Are you Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre?” asked the public prosecutor of Fontainebleau.
“Yes, monsieur.”
“You will spend to-night in La Force,” said he. “I have a warrant for the detention of your person.”
“Who are these ladies?” asked the sergeant.
“To be sure.—Excuse me, ladies—your passports? For Monsieur Lucien, as I am instructed, had acquaintances among the fair sex, who for him would——”
“Do you take the Duchesse de Lenoncourt-Chaulieu for a prostitute?” said Madeleine, with a magnificent flash at the public prosecutor.
“You are handsome enough to excuse the error,” the magistrate very cleverly retorted.