“Of course not.” He seemed to sneer. “No matter. And you wish to leave Paris also? Where do you desire to go?” “To Meudon.” “Your business there?” The blood leapt to her face. His insolence was unbearable to a woman who in all her life had never known anything but the utmost deference from inferiors and equals alike. Nevertheless, realizing that she was face to face with forces entirely new, she controlled herself, stifled her resentment, and answered steadily. “I wish to conduct this lady, Mlle. de Kercadiou, back to her uncle who resides there.” “Is that all? Another day will do for that, madame. The matter is not pressing.” “Pardon, monsieur, to us the matter is very pressing.” “You have not convinced me of it, and the barriers are closed to all who cannot prove the most urgent and satisfactory reasons for wishing to pass. You will wait, madame, until the restriction is removed. Good-evening.” “But, monsieur...” “Good-evening, madame,” he repeated significantly, a dismissal more contemptuous and despotic than any royal “You have leave to go.” Madame went out with Aline. Both were quivering with the anger that prudence had urged them to suppress. They climbed into the coach again, desiring to be driven home. Rougane’s astonishment turned into dismay when they told him what had taken place. “Why not try the Hotel de Ville, madame?” he suggested. “After that? It would be useless. We must resign ourselves to remaining in Paris until the barriers are opened again.” “Perhaps it will not matter to us either way by then, madame,” said Aline. “Aline!” she exclaimed in horror. “Mademoiselle!” cried Rougane on the same note. And then, because he perceived that people detained in this fashion must be in some danger not yet discernible, but on that account more dreadful, he set his wits to work. As they were approaching the Hotel Plougastel once more, he announced that he had solved the problem. “A passport from without would do equally well,” he announced. “Listen, now, and trust to me. I will go back to Meudon at once. My father shall give me two permits--one for myself alone, and another for three persons--from Meudon to Paris and back to Meudon. I reenter Paris with my own permit, which I then proceed to destroy, and we leave together, we three, on the strength of the other one, representing ourselves as having come from Meudon in the course of the day. It is quite simple, after all. If I go at once, I shall be back to-night.” “But how will you leave?” asked Aline. “I? Pooh! As to that, have no anxiety. My father is Mayor of Meudon. There are plenty who know him. I will go to the Hotel de Ville, and tell them what is, after all, true--that I am caught in Paris by the closing of the barriers, and that my father is expecting me home this evening. They will pass me through. It is quite simple.” His confidence uplifted them again. The thing seemed as easy as he represented it.