ravado, and twisting up a
piece of paper she lit, as though for a reception, the ten candles in
the ugly candelabra, placed at the corners of the mantel-shelf. Then,
leaning against this, and holding out backwards to the dying fire one of
her bare feet which she lifted up behind the petticoat, scarcely
sticking to her hips, she took a cigarette from a pink paper case, lit
it, and began to smoke. The commissary had returned towards her, pending
that her accomplice got up.

She inquired insolently: "Do you often have such jobs as these, sir?"

He replied gravely: "As seldom as possible, madame."

She smiled in his face, saying: "I congratulate you; it is dirty work."

She affected not to look at or even to see her husband.

But the gentleman in the bed was dressing. He had put on his trousers,
pulled on his boots, and now approached putting on his waistcoat. The
commissary turned towards him, saying: "Now, sir, will you tell me who
you are?"

He made no reply, and the official said: "I find myself obliged to
arrest you."

Then the man exclaimed suddenly: "Do not lay hands on me. My person is
inviolable."

Du Roy darted towards him as though to throw him down, and growled in
his face: "Caught in the act, in the act. I can have you arrested if I
choose; yes, I can." Then, in a ringing tone, he added: "This man is
Laroche-Mathieu, Minister of Foreign Affairs."

The commissary drew back, stupefied, and stammered: "Really, sir, will
you tell me who you are?"

The other had made up his mind, and said in forcible tones: "For once
that scoundrel has not lied. I am, indeed, Laroche-Mathieu, the
minister." Then, holding out his hand towards George's chest, in which a
little bit of red ribbon showed itself, he added: "And that rascal wears
on his coat the cross of honor which I gave him."

Du Roy had become livid. With a rapid movement he tore the bit of ribbon
from his buttonhole, and, throwing it into the fireplace, exclaimed:

"That is all that is fit for a decoration coming from a swine like
you."

They were quite close, face to face, exasperated, their fists clenched,
the one lean, with a flowing moustache, the other stout, with a twisted
one. The commissary stepped rapidly between the pair, and pushing them
apart with his hands, observed: "Gentlemen, you are forgetting
yourselves; you are lacking in self-respect."

They became quiet and turned on their heels. Madeleine, motionless, was
still smoking in silenc