“Let me go!” he cried. “You are mistaken. I don’t know you.”
“You don’t remember me? Your friend, your relation, the Marquis ——?”
“Yes, I remember you now; but let me go.”
A crowd began to gather, and he went on in a loud voice—
“I recognised you directly in spite of your dress, your beard, your dyed hair, and false scar.”
“Do you wish me to be lost?”
“Lost? Certainly not. I have only just found you, and shall not let you go. I am going to take you to dine with me, my dear Chevalier de ——”
“Speak lower,” implored the Chevalier. “Are you mad?”
“Ah! you, too, call me mad. It is an insult!”
The Chevalier tore away his arm, the Marquis struck him a furious blow, the police interfered, and took them both to the Commissaire de la section. The Marquis was released and the Chevalier —— sent to the Luxembourg.