In a moment after, a tall, meager, gaunt-looking man, dressed in the peculiar robes of an Exempt of the court, with a nose extraordinarily red, scarcely any eyebrows, and a mouth which seemed capable of swallowing the vehicle that he approached and all that it contained, came up to the side of the carriage, and spoke to the young officer through the window. The words that passed between them seemed to be sharp; and, at length, the Exempt exclaimed, in a louder tone, so as to be completely audible to the Count--although his articulation was of that round spluttering kind which rendered it very difficult to make out what he said--"I shall do so, however, Sir; I shall do so, however. I have authority for what I do. I will suffer no such communications as these, and I will not quit the carriage till I have seen the prisoner safely lodged in the hands of the governor of the Bastille." "Well, Sir," replied the officer, a little heated; "if you choose to overstep your duty I cannot help it, and certainly shall not attempt to prevent your going with the coachman if you think fit. In the inside of the carriage you shall not come, for there I will guard my prisoner myself." "That you may do, Sir, if you like," cried the Exempt, shaking the awful mass of wig in which his head was plunged: "but I will take care that there shall be no more communications.--Linen! What the devil does a prisoner in the Bastille want with linen? Why, in the very first packet sent to him there might be all sorts of treasonable things written upon the linen. Have we not heard of ink of sympathy and all manner of things?" "Well, well, Sir," exclaimed the young officer: "I saw no harm in what I was doing, or else I should not have done it. But get up, if you are going to get up, for I shall order the coachman to go on." The Exempt sprang up the high and difficult ascent which led to a coachbox of those days, with a degree of activity which could hardly have been expected from a person of his pompous dignity, and the coach then drove on upon its weary way to Paris. "A very violent and self-conceited person, indeed, that seems to be," said the Count. "Do you know him?" "Not I," replied the young officer, "though he threatens to make me know him pretty sufficiently, by complaining to Louvois about sending for these cursed clothes of yours."