“Death, and I am ready! my dear Hector--but a police court?--Oh! never.” With one bound she passed the three spectators and crouched under the little writing-table, hiding her face in her hands. “Ruin! Death!” she cried. “Monsieur,” said Marneffe to Hulot, “if Madame Marneffe goes mad, you are worse than a profligate; you will be a murderer.” What can a man do, what can he say, when he is discovered in a bed which is not his, even on the score of hiring, with a woman who is no more his than the bed is?--Well, this: “Monsieur the Justice of the Peace, Monsieur the Police Officer,” said the Baron with some dignity, “be good enough to take proper care of that unhappy woman, whose reason seems to me to be in danger.--You can harangue me afterwards. The doors are locked, no doubt; you need not fear that she will get away, or I either, seeing the costume we wear.” The two functionaries bowed to the magnate’s injunctions. “You, come here, miserable cur!” said Hulot in a low voice to Marneffe, taking him by the arm and drawing him closer. “It is not I, but you, who will be the murderer! You want to be head-clerk of your room and officer of the Legion of Honor?” “That in the first place, Chief!” replied Marneffe, with a bow. “You shall be all that, only soothe your wife and dismiss these fellows.” “Nay, nay!” said Marneffe knowingly. “These gentlemen must draw up their report as eyewitnesses to the fact; without that, the chief evidence in my case, where should I be? The higher official ranks are chokeful of rascalities. You have done me out of my wife, and you have not promoted me, Monsieur le Baron; I give you only two days to get out of the scrape. Here are some letters--” “Some letters!” interrupted Hulot. “Yes; letters which prove that you are the father of the child my wife expects to give birth to.--You understand? And you ought to settle on my son a sum equal to what he will lose through this bastard. But I will be reasonable; this does not distress me, I have no mania for paternity myself. A hundred louis a year will satisfy me. By to-morrow I must be Monsieur Coquet’s successor and see my name on the list for promotion in the Legion of Honor at the July fetes, or else--the documentary evidence and my charge against you will be laid before the Bench. I am not so hard to deal with after all, you see.” “Bless me, and such a pretty woman!” said the Justice of the Peace to the police constable. “What a loss to the world if she should go mad!” “She is not mad,” said the constable sententiously. The police is always the incarnation of scepticism.--“Monsieur le Baron Hulot has been caught by a trick,” he added, loud enough for Valerie to hear him.