"Monsieur will not, I trust, oblige us to put in force the full power of
the law. I might, if I chose, and as I am fully entitled, commit you at
once to Mazas, to keep you in solitary confinement. Your conduct has
been deplorable, well calculated to traverse and impede justice. But I
am willing to believe that you were led away, not unnaturally, as a
gallant gentleman,--it is the characteristic of your nation, of your
cloth,--and that on more mature consideration you will acknowledge and
not repeat your error."

M. Beaumont le Hardi was a grave, florid, soft-voiced person, with a
bald head and a comfortably-lined white waistcoat; one who sought his
ends by persuasion, not force, but who had the instincts of a gentleman,
and little sympathy with the peremptory methods of his more inflammable
colleague.

"Oh, with all my heart, monsieur," said Sir Charles, cordially. "You
saw, or at least know, how this has occurred. I did not begin it, nor
was I the most to blame. But I was in the wrong, I admit. What do you
wish me to do now?"

"Give me your promise to abide by our rules,--they may be irksome, but
we think them necessary,--and hold no further converse with your
companions."

"Certainly, certainly, monsieur,--at least after I have said one word
more to Madame la Comtesse."

"No, no, I cannot permit even that--"