soldier was his general, flung this abominable word at him, "Canaille!"

Meanwhile Commissary Primorin had gone by a more roundabout way in order
the more surely to surprise the other Questor, M. Baze.

Out of M. Baze's apartment a door led to the lobby communicating with the
chamber of the Assembly. Sieur Primorin knocked at the door. "Who is
there?" asked a servant, who was dressing. "The Commissary of Police,"
replied Primorin. The servant, thinking that he was the Commissary of
Police of the Assembly, opened the door.

At this moment M. Baze, who had heard the noise, and had just awakened,
put on a dressing-gown, and cried, "Do not open the door."

He had scarcely spoken these words when a man in plain clothes and three
_sergents de ville_ in uniform rushed into his chamber. The man, opening
his coat, displayed his scarf of office, asking M. Baze, "Do you
recognize this?"

"You are a worthless wretch," answered the Questor.

The police agents laid their hands on M. Baze. "You will not take me
away," he said. "You, a Commissary of Police, you, who are a magistrate,
and know what you are doing, you outrage the National Assembly, you
violate the law, you are a criminal!" A hand-to-hand struggle
ensued--four against one. Madame Baze and her two little girls giving
vent to screams, the servant being thrust back with blows by the
_sergents de ville_. "You are ruffians," cried out Monsieur Baze. They
carried him away by main force in their arms, still struggling, naked,
his dressing-gown being torn to shreds, his body being covered with