The sound of steps was heard on the stairs.
The corporal stalked out, and stood upon the landing. Madame Deschwanden was before him.
'Ah! Du Pont! are you come at last?' called the little woman. 'You bad fellow! We waited dinner a full half hour. And now! when all is over!—But—my faith! it is not Du Pont, but strangers. I am thunderstruck. But pray come in and take chairs.'
The gendarmes entered the sitting-room, where the relics of the dinner remained on the table.
'You will allow me to pour you out a glass of wine each, before you speak,' said madame, not waiting for an answer, but handing each a tumbler. 'Now, what is it?'
'We have come, with order to bring Mademoiselle André, whom we have reason to believe is here, before M. Berthier, the Intendant.'
'Mon Dieu!' exclaimed madame, 'how vexing! I have been persuading her to wait on M. Berthier; she has some request to make of him, I believe, but I do not know her concerns. Women, however, are wilful. So are men, too—I have been married twice, and I know them. I have had my share of experience, and I should say that obstinacy, wilfulness, pigheadedness are the characteristics of man. But that is neither here nor there. Take some more wine?—No! Well, the girl would not listen to me. She has gone off on foot.'
'Gone, madame, where to?'