d-thirty years at the bottom of a drawer, had now become a
dangerous and forbidden object? And Franco, Franco who knew nothing!
Luisa was resting her hands on the back of a chair; it creaked sharply
under her convulsive pressure. She withdrew her hands, frightened, as if
the chair had spoken.

In fancy she saw the adjunct pass from room to room with his gendarmes,
and arrive at that door, open the drawer, and discover the sabre. She
made every effort to recall the exact position in which she had seen it,
to find some way out of this danger; and she was silent, mechanically
following with her eyes the candle which a gendarme, in obedience to his
chief's gestures, held close, now to an open drawer or cupboard, now to
a picture which the detective had lifted, that he might look behind it.
No, she could think of no remedy. If her uncle had failed to remove the
sabre, she could only trust they would not visit that room.

Franco, leaning against the stove, was following every motion of the
searchers with a clouded brow. When they plunged their hands into the
drawers, his rage was visible in the silent working of his jaws. Nothing
was heard save, now and then, a sharp order from the detective, and a
low-toned reply from the gendarmes. Nothing moved around them, save
their great shadows wavering on the walls. The silence of the Receiver,
of Franco and Luisa, was like the silence of those who have risked great
sums in a secret gaming-house, and stand about the players who, from
time to time, speak some brief word. The sinister face and voice of the
detective never changed, although he had not discovered anything. To
Luisa he seemed a man sure of achieving his purpose. And not to be able
to do anything, not even warn Franco! But perhaps it was better he did
not know; perhaps his ignorance would save him.

Having searched the hall and the loggia the detective entered the salon.
He took the candle from the gendarme's hands and swiftly examined the
little, illustrious men.

Seeing the portraits of Gouvion Saint-Cyr, Marmont, and other generals
of Napoleon, he said: "The Engineer-in-Chief Ribera would have done far
better to hang the portrait of His Excellency Field-Marshal Radetzky on
his walls. Is it here?"

"No," said Franco.

"A nice government official!" said the other contemptuously, and with
indescribable arrogance.

"Are government officials bound," Franco burst forth, "to hang the
portraits----"

"I am not here to