Scarcely had he spoken than the drawing-room door was flung violently open, and a captain of grenadiers entered the apartment. He was a young fellow of five-and-twenty, tall, fair-haired, with blue eyes, and a little, carefully waxed moustache. No doubt on ordinary occasions this military dandy’s features wore the coxcomb’s usual look of self-complacency, but for the time being he had a really ferocious air. The soldiers by whom he was accompanied awaited his orders in the hall. After glancing suspiciously round the apartment, he asked in a harsh voice; “Who is the master of this house?” “The Baron d’Escorval, my father, who is absent,” replied Maurice. “Where is he?” The abbe, who had hitherto remained seated, now rose to his feet. “On hearing of the unfortunate outbreak of this evening,” he replied, “the baron and myself went after the peasants in the hope of inducing them to relinquish their foolish undertaking. They would not listen to us. In the confusion that ensued, I became separated from the baron; I returned here very anxious, and am now waiting for his return.” The captain twisted his moustache with a sneering air. “Not a bad invention!” said he. “Only I don’t believe a word of it.” A threatening light gleamed in the priest’s eyes, and his lips trembled for a moment. However, he prudently held his peace. “Who are you?” rudely asked the officer. “I am the cure of Sairmeuse.” “Honest men ought to be in bed at this hour. And you are racing about the country after rebellious peasants. Really, I don’t know what prevents me from ordering your arrest.” What did prevent him was the priestly robe, all powerful under the Restoration. With Maurice, however, the swaggering swashbuckler was more at ease. “How many are there in this family of yours?” he asked. “Three; my father, my mother--ill at this moment--and myself.” “And how many servants?” “Seven--four men and three women.” “You haven’t housed or concealed any one here this evening?” “No one.” “It will be necessary to prove that,” rejoined the captain; and turning towards the door he called, “Corporal Bavois, step here!” This corporal proved to be one of the old soldiers who had followed the emperor all over Europe. Two tiny, but piercing grey eyes lighted his tanned, weather-beaten face, and an immense hooked nose surmounted a heavy, bristling moustache. “Bavois,” commanded the officer, “take half a dozen men and search this house from top to bottom. You are an old fox, and if there be any hiding-place here, you will be sure to discover it. If you find any one concealed here, bring the person to me. Go, and make haste!” The corporal saluted and turned on his heels; while the captain walked towards Maurice: “And now,” said he, “what have you been doing this evening?” The young man hesitated for a moment: then, with well-feigned indifference, replied: “I have not put my head out of doors.” “Hum! that must be proved. Let me see your hands.”