intervals, or talking in a low tone, for three gendarmes on duty paced
to and fro, their sabres clattering on the floor.

"Do you recognize me?" said Derville to the old man, standing in front
of him.

"Yes, sir," said Chabert, rising.

"If you are an honest man," Derville went on in an undertone, "how
could you remain in my debt?"

The old soldier blushed as a young girl might when accused by her
mother of a clandestine love affair.

"What! Madame Ferraud has not paid you?" cried he in a loud voice.

"Paid me?" said Derville. "She wrote to me that you were a swindler."

The Colonel cast up his eyes in a sublime impulse of horror and
imprecation, as if to call heaven to witness to this fresh subterfuge.

"Monsieur," said he, in a voice that was calm by sheer huskiness, "get
the gendarmes to allow me to go into the lock-up, and I will sign an
order which will certainly be honored."

At a word from Derville to the sergeant he was allowed to take his
client into the room, where Hyacinthe wrote a few lines, and addressed
them to the Comtesse Ferraud.

"Send her that," said the soldier, "and you will be paid your costs