"Well, lieutenant!" said the commissioner. "I believe the time has come."
"No," replied Landri, rousing himself forcibly from his abstraction and speaking now in a firm voice, "no, I refuse."
"You refuse?" said the sub-prefect, coming forward. "But have you duly considered the consequences, monsieur—Article 234 of the Penal Code?"
"I refuse," reiterated the young man; and with a military salute to the three officials, who were motionless with amazement, he ran rapidly down the steps which he had climbed so slowly, followed by the sappers.
"To horse!" he cried, when he reached the foot; and in the next breath, "By fours, march!" Five minutes later there was not a single dragoon on the square, but an enthusiastic crowd followed on the heels of the officials as they returned to their landau, with shouts of "Vive l'armée! Vive le lieutenant!"
"I can't understand it at all," said the commissioner, as the carriage moved away; "I'd have sworn that that officer would obey. As you saw, he didn't argue, as they usually do, about the text of the requisition."
"I thought as you did," replied the recording clerk; "I said to myself: 'We sha'n't have to come to this port again,' and I was mighty glad. If it hadn't been for the curé those beasts would have done us a bad turn."
"Do you know what his name is?" queried the sub-prefect.
"Wait," said the commissioner, looking through his papers. "Lieutenant de Claviers-Grandchamp."
"A noble!" cried the sub-prefect; "that explains everything. He was evidently very desirous to obey orders, and then, at the last moment, he balked. Why? I'll tell you; but first listen to a little story."—He was an old boulevardier and fond of telling stories.—