"To be sure," said he, in a trembling voice which he struggled to control,--"to be sure I recognize Monsieur le Vicomte d'Exmès, from having sometimes seen him at the Louvre when I was in the service of Monsieur de Montmorency; but I cannot believe that Monseigneur would recognize me, the poor and obscure servant of the constable." "You forget," said Gabriel, "that you have been my servant as well." "What, I?" cried Arnauld, feigning the most extreme amazement. "Oh, pardon, Monseigneur is surely mistaken!" "I am so certain that I am not mistaken," retorted Gabriel, calmly, "that I without hesitation call upon the judge of Artigues, here present, to cause your immediate arrest and imprisonment. Is that sufficiently clear?" There was a movement of affright among the guests. The wondering judge drew near. Arnauld alone retained his appearance of tranquillity. "May I not at least know of what crime I am accused?" he asked. "I accuse you," replied Gabriel, firmly, "of having wickedly substituted yourself for my squire, Martin-Guerre, and of having basely and treacherously stolen his name, his house, and his wife, by means of a resemblance so exact that it passes understanding." Upon hearing this concisely stated accusation, the guests exchanged looks of stupefied bewilderment. "What does this mean?" they whispered. "Martin-Guerre not Martin-Guerre? What diabolical sorcery is at the bottom of all this?" Several of the good people crossed themselves, and repeated beneath their breath certain words designed to exorcise evil spirits. The majority began to look upon their host with something like terror. Arnauld du Thill saw that it was time for him to strike some decisive blow to win back these timid and yielding creatures to his side; so turning to her whom he called his wife, he cried,-- "Bertrande, speak, I conjure you! Am I or am I not your husband?" Poor Bertrande, terrified and gasping, thus far had simply, without uttering a word, watched first her husband and then Gabriel, with her great eyes open to their fullest extent. But at Arnauld du Thill's imperious gesture and his threatening tone, she hesitated no longer, but threw herself into his arms with effusion. "Dear Martin-Guerre!" she cried. At these words the charm was broken, and the offensive murmurs were turned against Gabriel. "Monsieur," said Arnauld du Thill, triumphantly, "in the face of my wife's testimony and that of all my friends and kinsmen, do you still persist in your strange accusation?" "I do indeed," was Gabriel's reply. "One moment!" cried Master Carbon Barreau, interposing. "I know very well, my host, that I am not losing my eyesight. If there is somewhere a person who resembles this man, feature for feature, then I declare that one of the two is my nephew, Arnauld du Thill, like myself a native of Sagias."