"Oh, your son may be sent to prison."
"I am very sorry, Sir, but I can do nothing."
"To the correctional police," continued M. Bernard.
"I shall be exceedingly grieved, but I cannot prevent it."
Armand at each word sobbed violently, and raised his eyes and clasped hands towards his father. Some one whispered to M. Bernard, "Here is the commissary of police passing by." Armand heard him, and uttering a loud scream, he tore himself from the hands of M. Bernard, and ran to take refuge with his father, round whom he clung with all his strength, exclaiming, "Oh, papa, do not let the commissary take me away; have pity on me!... Do not let me go to prison!"
"What right have I to prevent him, my son? or in what respect is it my duty to do so? Have you not renounced my protection?"
"Oh, restore it to me! restore it to me! I will obey you, I will do everything you wish."
"Do you promise me this? Do you really desire that I should resume my authority?"
"Oh! yes! yes! Punish me in any way you please, but do not let me go to prison."
"Follow me," said M. de Saint-Marsin; and turning to M. Bernard, he said, "M. Bernard, I trust this matter may be arranged without the intervention of the magistrate; have the goodness to wait here for me a few minutes."