“An exception was made in my favor, on account of the name I bear,” he answered. “We are all naval men in our family.”
“What is the name of your family, citizen?” asked Hulot.
“Du Gua Saint-Cyr.”
“Then you were not killed at Mortagne?”
“He came very near being killed,” said Madame du Gua, quickly; “my son received two balls in—”
“Where are your papers?” asked Hulot, not listening to the mother.
“Do you propose to read them?” said the young man, cavalierly; his blue eye, keen with suspicion, studied alternately the gloomy face of the commandant and that of Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
“A stripling like you to pretend to fool me! Come, produce your papers, or—”
“La! la! citizen, I’m not such a babe as I look to be. Why should I answer you? Who are you?”
“The commander of this department,” answered Hulot.