"Whence did your master come hither?"
"How?" said the driver, who did not understand the question.
"I wish to know, did you drive him from his hotel, or some other place?"
"My master was to-night at the Neapolitan embassy. I waited for him in the courtyard which was black as a fair on days when there is no reception. After having remained an hour there he got into the carriage and bade me drive to the quai des Orfevres, near the Prefecture of Police. Here I am, Monsieur, and so are you. Good night, then."
Whipping up his horses at the risk of driving over two of the young men who stood at their heads, he went away at a gallop.
Von Apsberg, d'Harcourt, and Rovero, were all as white as the snow, which had again begun to fall with violence, and looked at each other with that sympathy of a thousand sentiments which might have been expected in persons so terribly situated as they were. Terror, shame, and despair were all united in their glance. Then by one of those sudden and sublime emotions, they clasped each other's hands as if to say, that, henceforth they could rely on no others. Von Apsberg and the Vicomte, were about to speak, when Taddeo made them wait, and said, "No complaints, no insults. If it be he, contempt and death." As he spoke the last word his voice quivered.
"'If it be he?' what doubt can there be?" said Von Apsberg. "Have not our eyes seen? Have not our ears heard? Are we not satisfied?"
"Did you not hear the name?"
"May he not have used the name surreptitiously?"
"Was it not his form, dress, and air?"