"Madame," said the Commissary, exhibiting his warrant to Madame Bruneval, who, like the commander of a besieged place, sought to parley with the enemy; "you are the widow of Colonel de Bruneval."
"I am, sir," said the German lady, whose color became greater than ever, "and cannot conceive why I should be thus insulted. I am not, I suppose, under the surveillance of the police."
"Excuse me, madame," said the Commissary, "your house has long been pointed out to us, as the rendezvous of many Buonapartists"—the Buonapartists became alarmed—"and," continued the Commissary, "as a place where forbidden games are played. For these reasons, we are about to make an examination in the premises and in relation to the persons here—until that is completed, none can leave this room."
The clock struck twelve. The sound made the Count grow pale, for it was the hour of the rendezvous. His situation was annoying, and a moment's delay might bring about a catastrophe. The note had said: "If you are not at my house by midnight, I shall be dead before one." The Count made up his mind, and with his habitual decision in all critical, embarrassing, or dangerous conjunctures, said that he must at all risks get out of the house and go whither he was expected, to save life—which every moment endangered. In such a state of affairs, ruse was the best course he could adopt—especially as that promised his immediate extrication. He was about to adopt a difficult course; he purposed to put out the lights, rush on the magistrate and his attendants, and then break through the doors. Before adopting this extreme course, the Count wished to know if he had many Carbonari around him. Glancing around the guests of Madame Bruneval, he placed his hand on his brow and made slowly the secret sign by means of which the Carbonari recognized each other. The Commissary had not removed his eyes from the Count, who he was well aware, though he did not know his name, was one of the principal persons of the assemblage. No sooner had Monte-Leone made the sign than, much to his surprise, he saw the Commissary acknowledge it. The Count then discovered that the magistrate was a Carbonari, and that there was one more brother than could have been expected in the room. This strange circumstance had its explanation in the statement of D'Harcourt at Doctor Matheus's: "We meet our brethren every where; in the city, in the courts, among the lawyers, and among the judges." The inquiry was brief and a mere matter of form. The Commissary did nothing. Monte-Leone was one of the first who received permission to leave. Followed by Taddeo, he rushed out. Rovero called on him to stop, but the Count paid no attention to his cries. The clock was about to strike one, and hurrying across the streets and squares of Louis XV., with the rapidity of an arrow, he did not pause until he had reached the Champs Elysées, where a little green door veiled by a hedge was opened to admit him.
XIII.—DESPAIR.
When the door opened, a woman appeared and said, "Follow me, Count, Madame is waiting for your excellency."
"What o'clock is it?" asked he, with great anxiety.
She answered, "A quarter after one."
"When did you leave your mistress?"
"At twelve. Madame bade me wait here for you."