When everything had been examined to the chief officer’s satisfaction, he muttered something to his men, and, approaching Madame de X——, laid his hand on _the little table_! “What is in this, Madame?” he demanded. “That?” she replied, with a calm that surprised herself; “only embroidery-silks and things of that sort—it is my work-table.” “There is a drawer in it, _n’est-ce pas_?” “No, Monsieur, it opens at the top.” Though this was the crisis of all, Madame de X—— stated that a strange calm of indifference came over her; a conviction that the end had come gave her the recklessness of despair. The soldiers, at that moment, were busy replacing books in the bookcase; the other officer, at her desk, was putting together certain letters of wholly innocent character he thought might be of service later on. “I should like to look into the table, if you please,” said the chief. “_Bien._” She lifted her work-basket and, handing it to him, said: “Will you kindly set that on the other table?” As he, while examining the basket’s contents, turned to do this, she swept the table-cover with the papers under it into her lap. Scarcely was this done, when he turned; and quickly lifting the lid, she remarked, looking up innocently, with the smile now familiar to him: “Its contents are not likely to interest a soldier, I fear.” He put his hand in and felt through the silks, then drew it out quickly, pierced by a needle! “Good!” he said harshly, his face reddening. Then, when the pain passed: “Thank you, Madame. So far we have found nothing incriminating, but nevertheless you must come with me at once to the Military Governor.” “Go with you!” she gasped, fearing to rise because of those papers in her lap; “but why, Monsieur? For what reason do you arrest a woman of my age, against whom you have no charge?” He raised his shoulders. “Our reasons, Madame, are not usually given. You must be imprisoned until this matter is fully investigated; that is all I shall say. If you wish to go to your room to dress, you may do so; but I must ask you to be as quick as possible.” The unyielding dryness of his tone told her argument would be futile, and, in a last desperate effort to save the situation, she gathered up her apron, in which lay embroidery, table-cover, and papers, and left the room in proud silence, determined to benefit by the moment of privacy allowed her, and destroy the papers. The officer, after ordering one of the soldiers to examine the chair she had occupied, said something to the other, who, with him, followed her from the room.