CHAPTER XI. “Jacques is wounded and we are arrested by this imbecile of a sergeant. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. "I've known several cases where the ignominious doom I've mentioned has been foretold by such an accident as has just befallen you. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. You see, it's like this. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head.
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