ch in a corner.
Bouche-de-Miel had meanwhile relapsed into his misty reverie. Albert
touched his arm again.
"Don't bother me!" said the man, impatiently, without removing his eyes
from space. "Can't you let a fellow dream!"
"Baron Danglars!" whispered Morcerf in his ear.
"Eh? What?" cried Bouche-de-Miel, coming back to reality with a start,
half-sobered by hearing this name.
"Baron Danglars," repeated the Captain, in a guarded undertone, "I know
you!"
The man got upon his feet lumberingly and unsteadily; he clutched
Albert's shoulder convulsively.
"You are an Agent de la Surete!" he hissed. "You have come here to
arrest me!"
The attention of some of the less intoxicated ruffians was being excited
by Bouche-de-Miel's behavior, but their ears had failed to seize his
words amid the prevailing din. Mange, with his usual keenness and
quickness, saw that something must instantly be done to quiet Albert's
companion or all the miscreants who could stir would be aroused and come
thronging about them to throttle the supposed Agent de la Surete. He,
therefore, gave a loud laugh and said to Bouche-de-Miel:
"Don't be a fool, old man! Monsieur Fouquier belong to la rousse! That's
a good joke! ha! ha! Why he is as much in danger of the violon as you
are! ha! ha!"
He arose, still laughing, and, playfully taking Bouche-de-Miel by the
collar, gently forced him back into his chair. As he did so, he glanced
at Beurre-Sans-Sel. The slatternly young woman had her hand on the screw
of the huge lamp suspended above the counter, by which alone the room
was lighted, ready to turn it out and leave the whole place in darkness
at the first alarm. She was evidently accustomed to police descents and
knew how to act in such cases. Mange's words and merriment, however,
reassured her and she withdrew her fingers from the screw.
But Bouche-de-Miel was not altogether satisfied. He sat uneasily in his
chair, facing Morcerf and anxiously scanning his countenance.
"What did you mean by calling me Baron Danglars and saying that you knew
me?" he asked, in a low, somewhat tremulous voice.
Instead of replying directly to this question, the young man said,
slowly and in a half-whisper:
"I am Albert de Morcerf, the husband of your daughter Eugenie!"
"What!" exclaimed Bouche-de-Miel. "Eugenie married--and to you!"
"Yes," said the Captain, "Fate has again brought us together after a
long and painful separation."
"I saw Eugenie in
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