“Oh, then, of course, the matter is serious; I am taken with arms in my hand,” and he held a glass full of Bordeaux to the soldier.
“I am not thirsty,” said Hulot. “Come, your papers.”
At that instant the rattle of arms and the tread of men was heard in the street. Hulot walked to the window and gave a satisfied look which made Mademoiselle de Verneuil tremble. That sign of interest on her part seemed to fire the young man, whose face had grown cold and haughty. After feeling in the pockets of his coat he drew forth an elegant portfolio and presented certain papers to the commandant, which the latter read slowly, comparing the description given in the passport with the face and figure of the young man before him. During this prolonged examination the owl’s cry rose again; but this time there was no difficulty whatever in recognizing a human voice. The commandant at once returned the papers to the young man, with a scoffing look.
“That’s all very fine,” he said; “but I don’t like the music. You will come with me to headquarters.”
“Why do you take him there?” asked Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a tone of some excitement.
“My good lady,” replied the commandant, with his usual grimace, “that’s none of your business.”
Irritated by the tone and words of the old soldier, but still more at the sort of humiliation offered to her in presence of a man who was under the influence of her charms, Mademoiselle de Verneuil rose, abandoning the simple and modest manner she had hitherto adopted; her cheeks glowed and her eyes shone as she said in a quiet tone but with a trembling voice: “Tell me, has this young man met all the requirements of the law?”
“Yes—apparently,” said Hulot ironically.
“Then, I desire that you will leave him, apparently, alone,” she said. “Are you afraid he will escape you? You are to escort him with me to Mayenne; he will be in the coach with his mother. Make no objection; it is my will—Well, what?” she added, noticing Hulot’s grimace; “do you suspect him still?”
“Rather.”