"Ah! he's crawling! he's crawling!" cried Jean Ficelle. "He wants to make us think Sans-Cravate has drunk too much."
"I am the one you made a fool of by breaking that glass, and you've got to fight with me!" repeated Sans-Cravate. "Crédié! come on, and have done with it, or I'll knock you down!"
The powerful messenger shook his fist at Paul, who remained unmoved and seemed to have determined not to avoid the blow; while all the men who stood about drew back to leave more room for the combatants, upon whom every eye was fixed.
But an unforeseen incident interrupted the scene. Heavy, measured steps were heard in the wine shop below, followed by the sound of muskets striking the floor; at the same instant, the waiter appeared at the top of the stairs, with a terror-stricken air, crying:
"The watch! here's the watch! they're coming up here!"
"The watch!" muttered several of the bystanders; "what are they doing here?"—"It isn't twelve o'clock."—"We have a right to drink."—"I won't go away, for one."
"They've come for something else," said the waiter; "there's two detectives with the soldiers; they've come to arrest someone, I suppose."
The workmen and the drunkards seemed but little affected by the news. But Monsieur Laboussole, who was still on all fours, crawled under a table, although there was no brandy there.
The soldiers and detectives came upstairs almost at the waiter's heels. They entered the room, leaving two soldiers to watch the stairway.
"Why in the devil do you come here and disturb us?" demanded Sans-Cravate. "We've no business with you. I'd like to know if we ain't at liberty to drink and sing, and quarrel a little too, if we want to?"