“Monsieur, I do not allow any one to speak to me in this manner,” said Goulard; “you misunderstand my character.”
“And you want to know about mine!” returned the Unknown. “Well, I will now make myself known. You can write in the landlord’s book: ‘Impertinent fellow. Direct from Paris. Age doubtful. Travelling for pleasure.’ It would be rather a novelty in France to imitate England and let people come and go as they please, without tormenting them at every turn for ‘papers.’ I have no passport; now, what will you do to me?”
“The procureur-du-roi is walking up and down there under the lindens,” said the sub-prefect.
“Monsieur Marest! Wish him good-morning from me.”
“But who are you?”
“Whatever you wish me to be, my dear Monsieur Goulard,” said the stranger. “You alone shall decide what I am to be in this department. Give me some advice on that head. Here, read that.”
And the stranger handed the sub-prefect the following letter:—
(Confidential.) Prefecture of the Aube.
Monsieur the Sub-prefect,—You will consult with the bearer of
this letter as to the election at Arcis, and you will conform to
all the suggestions and requests he may make to you. I request you
to conduct this matter with the utmost discretion, and to treat
the bearer with all the respect that is due to his station.
The letter was written and signed by the prefect of the Aube.
“You have been talking prose without knowing it,” said the Unknown, taking back the letter.