"He has explained," said Tremont, "that the only way Sabron can be saved is that he shall be found by outsiders. One hint to his captors would end his life."
"Oh!" said the Marquise d'Esclignac. "I don't know what to do, Bob! What part can we take in this?"
Tremont pulled his mustache. Mimi had circled round the beggar, snuffing at his slippers and his robe. The man made no objection to the little creature, to the fluffy ball surrounded by a huge bow, and Mimi sat peacefully down in the moonlight, at the beggar's feet.
"Mimi seems to like him," said the Marquise d'Esclignac helplessly, "she is very particular."
"She finds that he has a serious and convincing manner," said Tremont.
Now the man, who had been a silent listener to the conversation, said in fairly comprehensible English to the Marquise d'Esclignac:
"If the beautiful grandmother could have seen the Capitaine de Sabron on the night before the battle—"
"Grandmother, indeed!" exclaimed the marquise indignantly. "Come, Mimi! Robert, finish with this creature and get what satisfaction you can from him. I believe him to be an impostor; at any rate, he does not expect me to mount a camel or to lead a caravan to the rescue."
Tremont put Mimi in her arms; she folded her lorgnon and sailed majestically away, like a highly decorated pinnace with silk sails, and Tremont, in the moonlight, continued to talk with the sincere and convincing Hammet Abou.