At that moment the clock of Carentan struck half past nine; the torches were being lighted in Madame de Dey's anteroom, and the servants were assisting their masters and mistresses to put on their cloaks, their overcoats, and their mantles; the card-players had settled their accounts and were about to withdraw in a body, according to the usual custom in all small towns. "It seems that the public accuser proposes to remain," said a lady, observing that that important functionary was missing when they were about to separate to seek their respective homes, after exhausting all the formulas of leave-taking. The redoubtable magistrate was in fact alone with the countess, who waited in fear and trembling until it should please him to go. "Citizeness," he said at length, after a long silence in which there was something horrible, "I am here to see that the laws of the Republic are observed." Madame de Dey shuddered. "Have you no revelations to make to me?" he demanded. "None," she replied in amazement. "Ah, madame!" cried the accuser, sitting down beside her and changing his tone, "at this moment, for lack of a word, either you or I may bring our heads to the scaffold. I have observed your temperament, your heart, your manners, too closely to share the error into which you have led your guests to-night. You are expecting your son, I am absolutely certain." The countess made a gesture of denial; but she had turned pale, the muscles of her face had contracted, by virtue of the overpowering necessity to display a deceitful calmness, and the accuser's implacable eye lost none of her movements. "Very well; receive him," continued the revolutionary magistrate; "but do not let him remain under your roof later than seven o'clock in the morning. At daybreak I shall come here armed with a denunciation which I shall procure." She gazed at him with a stupefied air, which would have aroused the pity of a tigress. "I shall prove," he said in a gentle tone, "the falseness of the denunciation by a thorough search, and the nature of my report will place you out of the reach of any future suspicion. I shall speak of your patriotic gifts, of your true citizenship, and we shall _all_ be saved." Madame de Dey feared a trap; she did not move, but her face was on fire and her tongue was frozen. A blow of the knocker rang through the house. "Ah!" cried the terrified mother, falling on her knees. "Save him! save him!" "Yes, let us save him," rejoined the public accuser, with a passionate glance at her; "let us save him though it cost _us_ our lives." "I am lost!" she cried, while the accuser courteously raised her. "O madame!" he replied with a grand oratorical gesture, "I do not choose to owe you to any one but yourself." "Madame, here he----" cried Brigitte, who thought that her mistress was alone. At sight of the public accuser, the old servant, whose face was flushed with joy, became rigid and deathly pale.