His piercing accents reached the beleaguered garrison in the room behind the balcony.... The Archbishop turned to Dunoisse, and said, slightly shrugging his shoulders:
“Compliance will be your only possible course.”
Dunoisse was about to expostulate, but Henriette panted at her lover’s ear:
“Yes!—let us go from this dreadful place! Oh!—mad that I was to have set my foot in it!”
Then Dunoisse rang the bell. With its broken rope in his hand, he shouted to the scared and chalk-faced waiter:
“Bring the bill! Order both carriages! Instantly! Do you hear?”
The affrighted man gasped out:
“Sir, they are ready!”
And almost instantly, as it seemed, the green chariot and the brown landau, horsed, and heaped with unlocked and unpacked portmanteaux, empty valises, and the garments and articles of toilet that these had contained, were rattled out of the posting-yard and brought to the front-door of “The Three Crowns.”
No bill appeared. The banknotes and gold Dunoisse would have thrust upon the landlord the man refused, perhaps out of conscientiousness, perhaps in fear of further damage to his property.... Throwing the money down upon the table, Dunoisse grasped his hat and cane, and offered his arm to Henriette. She placed her little hand upon it, and shrank in terror as a savage, ominous growl came from the angry throng outside.