Part 54 (1/2)

”Well?”--said the coachman, looking with blinking eyes at this pale-faced, distraught-looking woman.

She remained there as if seeking an idea, a purpose.

”Where shall we go?” repeated the driver.

Suddenly Marianne's face trembled with a joyous expression and she abruptly said:

”To the Prefecture of Police!”

_The general rose, grasping his gla.s.s as if he would s.h.i.+ver it, and while the _parfait_ overflowed on to the plates, he cried in a hoa.r.s.e voice, as if he were at the head of his division:_

_”I love bronze--I love bronze--....”_

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BANQUET]

VI

There was a crowd at the _Mirlitons_ Exposition.

A file of waiting carriages lined the kerbstone the whole length of Place Vendome. Beneath the arch and within the portal, groups of fas.h.i.+onable persons elbowed each other on entering or leaving, and exchanged friendly polite greetings; the women quizzing the new hats, little hoods of plush or large _Rembranesque_ hats in which the delicate Parisian faces were lost as under the roof of a cabriolet. The liveried lackeys perfunctorily glanced at the cards of admission that the holders hardly took the trouble to present. One was seated at a table mechanically handing out catalogues. Through the open door of the Club's Theatre could be seen gold frames suspended from the walls, terra cottas and marbles on their pedestals, and around the pictures and sculptures a dense crowd, ma.s.ses of black hats inclined toward the paintings, side by side with pretty feminine heads crowned with Gainsborough hats adorned with plumes. It was impossible to see at close quarters the pieces offered for the sale that was for that day the engrossing topic of conversation of _All Paris_.

”A veritable salon in miniature!” said Guy aloud to an art critic who was taking notes. ”But to examine it comfortably one should be quite alone. For an hour past I have been trying to get a look at the Meissonier, but have not been able to do so. It is stifling here. I will return another time.”

He quickly grasped the hand that held the pencil, and which was extended to him, and tried to make a pa.s.sage through the crowd to the exit.

Pushed and pus.h.i.+ng, he smiled and apologized for his inability to disengage his arms that were held by the crowd as if in a vise, in order to salute the friends he recognized. At length he reached, giving vent to a grunt of satisfaction, the hall where visitors were sitting on divans, chatting, either less eager to view the pictures or satisfied in their desires. There, Guy instinctively looked at a mirror and examined the knot of his cravat. He did not notice that a gentleman with a closely b.u.t.toned frock-coat, on seeing him, quietly rose from the divan on which he had been sitting, and approached him, mechanically pulling the skirts of his coat meanwhile, so as to smooth the creases.

He simply touched Monsieur de Lissac's shoulder with the tip of his finger.

Guy turned round, expecting to recognize a friend.

”You are surely Monsieur de Lissac?” said the man in the frock-coat, with the refined manners of a gentleman.

”Yes!” said Lissac, somewhat astonished at the coldness of his manner.

”Be good enough to accompany me, monsieur, I am a Commissioner of the Judiciary Delegations!”

Lissac thought he misunderstood him.

”I confess that I don't quite understand you,” he began, with a rather significant smile.

”I am a Commissioner of Police,” the other replied, ”and I am ordered to arrest you.”

He suddenly exposed his insignia like the end of a sash, and by a very polite gesture, with an amiable and engaging manner, pointed to the way out by the side of the archway of the hotel.

”I have two of my men yonder, monsieur, but you will not place me under the necessity of--”

”What is this, monsieur?” said Lissac. ”I frankly confess that I understand nothing of this enigma. I hope you will explain it to me.”