idiot started upright in her bed.

"If any one has a right to call the police, we're the men. Do you
hear, Mister Sideways?" said Bourdin.

"You'll see the police lend a hand to take you, if you don't go
quietly," added Malicorne; "we have not the magistrate with us, it is
true; but if you wish to enjoy his society, you shall have a taste of
one, just out of his bed, quite hot and heavy. Bourdin will go and
fetch him."

"To prison! Me?" cried the astounded Morel.

"Yes, to Clichy."

"To Clichy!" repeated the artisan, with a wild look.

"Is he hard of hearing?" asked Malicorne.

"Well, then, to the debtor's prison, if you like that better,"
explained Bourdin.

"You--you--are--can it be?--the lawyer! Oh, my God!"

The artisan, pale as death, fell back on his stool, unable to utter
another word.

"We are the officers who are to take you, if we can; do you understand
now, old fellow?"