George took him by the ears in order to force him up stairs.
"I'll scream," said Joseph.
George, notwithstanding his anger, saw that there was but one course to be pursued. He left Joseph, ran up stairs, attained the leads, entered his room and sought for the dog, determined, if requisite, to pass the night with him upon the roof; but he sought in vain. As Joseph had left the doors open, M. le Chevalier had had all the apartments at his disposal. Where could he be hidden? It was getting dusk, and the dog was small, George could not perceive him anywhere, and he was persuading himself that Joseph had been making game of him, and was about returning by the way that he had entered, when the animal scenting his master at the door, rushed from under a bed, howling most lamentably.
"Do you hear?" exclaimed the owner.
"It is impossible," exclaimed M. Roussel, precipitately opening the door. He stood perfectly stupified when he beheld his son and the dog in the middle of the room, without being able to understand in the least by what means they had got there.
"I knew it would be so," said William triumphantly.
George, stifled with shame and anger, and rendered furious by the invectives with which he was overwhelmed from all sides, protested that it was not he, but Joseph who did it. The neighbours, delighted at finding him in fault, were indignant that he should throw the blame upon another. M. Bucquet, who knew that if Joseph were the culprit, he should have to pay the damages, flew into a violent passion with George; and Madame Bucquet, terrified lest her husband should beat Joseph, became still louder and more violent in her invectives: M. Roussel thought that, right or wrong, he ought to take his son's part; William and his father were clamouring to be paid, and M. le Chevalier howled like a dog who had had no dinner.
In the midst of this fearful uproar, a venerable clergyman who lived in the house came up. Every one respected him, and he was the only person on whom George had not dared to play his tricks. He made every effort to restore peace, but when he had stilled the tumult for a moment, some voice was raised, every one replied, and the whole thing was renewed. At length he succeeded in persuading the people to disperse, with the exception of the owner of the dogs, who wanted to take M. Roussel before the magistrate to make him pay. M. Roussel did not desire anything better, and George was anxious to accompany them, in order to justify himself, but Madame Roussel wept and entreated her husband to pay: and the clergyman reminded him that he had promised to do so if the dog was discovered on his premises: he was therefore obliged to submit; and then the master of the dogs, perfectly satisfied, went away, holding M. le Chevalier under his arm, and saying, "Monsieur, Madame, very sorry to have troubled you."
M. and Madame Roussel retired to their own rooms, together with the clergyman, whom they had invited to accompany them. George sat in a corner, tearing his hair in despair. They asked him the truth of the story, which he explained, and M. Roussel and his wife were terribly enraged against Joseph.