“What is this?” cried Monte-Christo. “Do I see Monsieur Bagsby in a general’s uniform? Why, my good sir, you have become a naturalised Frenchman indeed! The nation has a claim upon you.”
“The nation will find it very difficult to get it settled then!” said Bagsby. “But I want to get out. I say, can’t I get away?”
“Certainly. There is nothing to prevent you. But I am rather curious to hear about this marriage.”
“Why,” said I, “the truth is, my dear Marquis, that the subject is rather a delicate one for our friend. He has just been officiating in the capacity of bridegroom.”
“You amaze me!” said Monte-Christo; “and which, may I ask, is the fair lady?”
Here Demoiselle Céphyse came forward.
“Citizen officer,” she said, “I want my husband!”
“You hear, Monsieur Bagsby?” said Monte-Christo, in intense enjoyment of the scene. “The lady says she has a claim upon you.”
“It’s all a lie!” shouted Bagsby. “I’ve got nothing to say to the woman. I hate and abhor her!”
“Monstre!” shrieked the poissarde, judging of Bagsby’s ungallant repudiation rather from his gestures than his words. And she sprang towards him with the extended talons of a tigress. Bagsby, however, was this time too nimble for her, and took refuge behind the ranks of the National Guard, who were literally in convulsions of laughter.