in a duel, his many adversaries.

"I beg you to remain calm," one of these men repeated to him from time
to time in a passionless way.

"Oh! that is easy enough for you to say," cried Lissac. "I ask you once
more, where is Monsieur Jouvenet?--I wish to see Monsieur Jouvenet!"

"Monsieur le Prefect cannot be seen in this way," was the reply.
"Moreover, you haven't to see any one; you have only to wait."

"Wait for what?"

They led Guy de Lissac through the passages to the door of a new cell,
which they opened before him.

"Then," he said, as he tried to force a troubled smile, "I am a
prisoner? Quite seriously? As in melodrama? This is high comedy!"

He asked if he would soon be examined, at least. They didn't know. They
hardly replied to him. Could he write, at any rate? Notify any one?
Protest? What should he do? He heard from the lips of a keeper who had
the appearance of a very honest man, the information, crushing as a
verdict: "You are in close confinement, as it is called!"

_In close confinement?_ Were they mocking him? In secret, he, Lissac?
Evidently, they wanted to make fun; it was absurd, it was unlikely, such
things only happened in operettas. He would heartily relish it at the
Cafe Riche presently, when he went to dine. _In close confinement?_ He
was no longer annoyed at the jest, so amusing had it become. For an old
Parisian like him, it was a facetious romance and almost amusing.

"A climax!"

Evening passed and night came. They brought Lissac a meal, and the
_jest_, as he called it, in no way came to an end. He did not close his
eyes for the whole night. He was stifled, and grew angry within the
narrow cage in which they had locked him. All sorts of wild projects of
revenge passed through his brain. He would send his seconds to Monsieur
Jouvenet, he would protest in the papers. He would have public opinion
in his favor.

Then his scepticism came to his aid, and shrugging his shoulders, he
said:

"Bah! public opinion! It will ridicule me, that's all! It will accuse me
of desiring to make a stir, to cut off my dog's tail. To-day, Alcibiades
would thus cut off his, but the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals would bring an action against him."

He waited for the next morning with the feverish anxiety of those who
cannot sleep. Certainly he would be examined at the first moment. They
did so in the case of the vagabonds gathered in during the night and
dumped into the _lions' de