"Sandioux! you are cowards all!" shouted Passedix, drawing Roland from the scabbard, and trying to force his way through the multitude. "This old clothes man is a fool--I don't know him! The clothes I have on I paid for in honest crowns--thirty pistoles, do you hear?" "The proof that he lies," cried the second-hand dealer, "is that I asked only fifteen pistoles for the complete outfit, as it was second-hand." "Ah! the blackguards! the reptiles! they cheated me!" rejoined the Gascon. "But I paid for the whole suit, none the less. Let the man who says I did not, come forward; I offer to fight him to the death--with dagger, sword, or partisan!" But no one listened to the chevalier, because they were only too glad to be able to believe that they had Giovanni in their hands. Meanwhile several soldiers and arquebusiers had forced their way into the crowd, and the unfortunate Passedix was speedily disarmed; they bound his hands behind his back and forced him to go with them to the Châtelet, while the crowd heaped insults upon him and beat him with their fists. The little clothes dealer headed the procession, which increased in size every moment, because all the passers-by and shop clerks on the route they traversed, when they heard someone say: "It is Giovanni whom they have arrested," hastened to join the crowd, hoping to obtain a glimpse of the brigand who had caused them to tremble with dread for many months. XXXIX THE MARQUISE DE SANTOVAL While these things were taking place, a scene of a different sort was being enacted in a superb mansion in Rue Sainte-Avoie, which mansion belonged to the Marquis de Santoval, who had become the husband of Valentine de Mongarcin several months earlier. When she married, the heiress had been compelled to leave her abode on Rue Saint-Honoré, to follow the spouse whom she had chosen. She had parted from her aunt, Madame de Ravenelle, without any very poignant regret, for their temperaments were in no respect sympathetic; nor did the old lady display any deep emotion when her niece left her. Selfish people are happy in that they refer all their sensations to themselves alone; they love themselves too much to waste any love on others. Valentine had taken Miretta with her, whom she treated as a friend rather than as a lady's-maid, and with whom she would not willingly have parted for anything on earth. This arrangement had been made without any difficulty. Monsieur de Santoval, proud of the preference which Valentine had accorded him over his numerous rivals, displayed the greatest zeal in gratifying his lovely wife's lightest wish; and he had lavished diamonds and other valuable gifts upon her. He left her entirely at liberty, feeling sure doubtless that she would not abuse the privilege; perhaps, too, he had reserved the means of satisfying himself whether she did abuse it or not. The marquis had one of those faces which always make one shudder when they assume to express confidence in a person.