“I wish to conduct this lady, Mlle. de Kercadiou, back to her uncle who resides there.”
“Is that all? Another day will do for that, madame. The matter is not pressing.”
“Pardon, monsieur, to us the matter is very pressing.”
“You have not convinced me of it, and the barriers are closed to all who cannot prove the most urgent and satisfactory reasons for wishing to pass. You will wait, madame, until the restriction is removed. Good-evening.”
“But, monsieur...”
“Good-evening, madame,” he repeated significantly, a dismissal more contemptuous and despotic than any royal “You have leave to go.”
Madame went out with Aline. Both were quivering with the anger that prudence had urged them to suppress. They climbed into the coach again, desiring to be driven home.
Rougane’s astonishment turned into dismay when they told him what had taken place. “Why not try the Hotel de Ville, madame?” he suggested.
“After that? It would be useless. We must resign ourselves to remaining in Paris until the barriers are opened again.”
“Perhaps it will not matter to us either way by then, madame,” said Aline.