Eloise. Poodle! Valet! Scum of the alleys! Sheep of the prisons! Jailer! Hangman! Assassin! Brigand! Horse-doctor! [She hurls the final epithet at him in a climax of ferocity which wholly exhausts her; and she sinks into the chair by the desk, with her arms upon the desk and her burning face hidden in her arms. Valsin, morbidly chuckling, in spite of himself, at each of her insults, has retreated farther and farther, until he stands with his back against the door of the inner room, his right hand behind him, resting on the latch. As her furious eyes leave him he silently opens the door, letting it remain a few inches ajar and keeping his back to it. Then, satisfied that what he intends to say will be overheard by those within, he erases all expression from his face, and strides to the dismantled doorway in the passage.]
Valsin [calling loudly]. Dossonville! [He returns, coming down briskly to Eloise. His tone is crisp and soldier-like.] Citizeness, I have had my great hour. I proceed with the arrests. I have given you four plenty of time to prepare yourselves. Time? Why, the Emigrant could have changed clothes with one of the women in there a dozen times if he had hoped to escape in that fashion—as historical prisoners have won clear, it is related. Fortunately, that is impossible just now; and he will not dare to attempt it.
Dossonville [appearing in the hallway]. Present, my chieftain!
Valsin [sharply]. Attend, Dossonville. The returned Emigrant, Valny-Cherault, is forfeited; but because I cherish a special grievance against him, I have decided upon a special punishment for him. It does not please me that he should have the comfort and ministrations of loving women on his journey to the Tribunal. No, no; the presence of his old sweetheart would make even the scaffold sweet to him. Therefore I shall take him alone. I shall let these women go.
Dossonville. What refinement! Admirable! [Eloise slowly rises, staring incredulously at Valsin.]
Valsin [picking up the "permit" from the desk]. "Permit the Citizen Balsage and his sister, the Citizeness Virginie Balsage, and his second sister, Marie Balsage, and Eloise d'Anville—" Ha! You see, Dossonville, since one of these three women is here, there are two in the other room with the Emigrant. They are to come out, leaving him there. First, however, we shall disarm him. You and I have had sufficient experience in arresting aristocrats to know that they are not always so sensible as to give themselves up peaceably, and I happened to see the outline of a pistol under the Emigrant's frock the other day in the diligence. We may as well save one of us from a detestable hole through the body. [He steps toward the door, speaking sharply.] Emigrant, you have heard. For your greater chagrin, these three devoted women are to desert you. Being an aristocrat, you will pretend to prefer this arrangement. They are to leave at once. Throw your pistol into this room, and I will agree not to make the arrest until they are in safety. They can reach your vessel in five minutes. When they have gone, I give you my word not to open this door for ten. [A pistol is immediately thrown out of the door, and falls at Valsin's feet. He picks it up, his eyes alight with increasing excitement.]
Valsin [tossing the pistol to Dossonville]. Call the lieutenant. [Dossonville goes to the window, leans out, and beckons. Valsin writes hastily at the desk, not sitting down.] "Permit the three women Balsage to embark without delay upon the Jeune Pierrette. Signed: Valsin." There, Citizeness, is a "permit" which permits. [He thrusts the paper into the hand of Eloise, swings toward the door of the inner room, and raps loudly upon it.] Come, my feminines! Your sailors await you—brave, but no judges of millinery. There's a fair wind for you; and a grand toilet is wasted at sea. Come, charmers; come! [The door is half opened, and Madame de Laseyne, white and trembling violently, enters quickly, shielding as much as she can the inexpressibly awkward figure of her brother, behind whom she extends her hand, closing the door sharply. He wears the brocaded skirt which Madame de Laseyne has taken from the portmanteau, and Eloise's long mantle, the lifted hood and Madame de Laseyne's veil shrouding his head and face.]
Valsin [in a stifled voice]. At last! At last one beholds the regal d'Anville! No Amazon—
Dossonville [aghast]. It looks like—
Valsin [shouting]. It doesn't! [He bows gallantly to Louis.] A cruel veil, but, oh, what queenly grace! [Louis stumbles in the skirt. Valsin falls back, clutching at his side. But Eloise rushes to Louis and throws herself upon her knees at his feet. She pulls his head down to hers and kisses him through the veil.]