"Excuse me," said La Pignoux, "my husband is in a terrible heat, and too much smoked up to appear in a dirty cap and apron before a lady like you." "Do you think that you are more enticing, you old gallows-bird?" cried the captain. "Bah! you can't fool me. I want to see the face of your donkey of a husband, and no excuse will go down. Look you, rascals," he said to La Proserpine's attendants, "how happens it that when your lieutenant gives an order, you make her repeat it? Death of my life! Must I go myself and fetch that double-dyed traitor?" At that moment, Bois-Doré, who had been compelled by force to ascend the staircase, was pushed into the room, and so roughly that he well-nigh fell on his knees at La Proserpine's feet. Poor Mario followed, trembling with fear for him and with wrath against the villainous troopers. If his old father had fallen, the child would have lost patience and have defended him at the risk of being cut in pieces. Luckily for them both, the marquis did not lose his head and determined to risk everything, staking his fate on the success of his disguise. As luck would have it, Proserpine paid no heed to his features. She knew the genuine Pignoux very well; she did not deign to raise her eyes to his face at once, engrossed as she was by the exceedingly familiar homage paid to her by Lieutenant Saccage, who, being seated by her side, made the most of every moment when Macabre was not watching them closely. Thus the marquis was able to take his stand behind Proserpine, in the attitude of a humble retainer awaiting orders; and, with a clever manœuvre he caused Mario to stand behind him. "Ah! there you are at last, gallows-bird!" cried the captain, bringing his fist down on the table. "Your fear betrays your treachery, and I see through your vile schemes!" Bois-Doré, believing that he was detected, was on the point of casting his disguise to the winds and making such use of the carving-knife as to be sure of dying without ignominy; but Mario was there and paralyzed his courage. In his uncertainty as to the meaning of the words addressed to him, he refrained from replying and thus allowing La Proserpine to hear his voice. He contented himself by staring at Macabre with a self-possessed air. That was, although he did not know it, the wisest attitude he could assume. "Zounds! will you speak?" roared the captain, who had seemed somewhat disturbed and was evidently reassured by his innocent air. "You play the simpleton, you miserable rascal! but you must know that by failing to come here yourself so that we could pull your ears to bring you to your senses, you disregarded all the rules and all the proprieties of your beastly trade." Bois-Doré, being determined not to speak, made a gesture equivalent to an interrogation point, with a shake of the head which seemed to say: "What is all this about?"