he _Arethusa_. The Commissary
was not, I think, a practiced literary man; no sooner, at least, had he
taken pen in hand and embarked on the composition of the
_proces-verbal_, than he became distinctly more uncivil, and began to
show a predilection for that simplest of all forms of repartee: "You
lie." Several times the _Arethusa_ let it pass, and then suddenly
flared up, refused to accept more insults or to answer further
questions, defied the Commissary to do his worst, and promised him, if
he did, that he should bitterly repent it. Perhaps if he had worn this
proud front from the first, instead of beginning with a sense of
entertainment and then going on to argue, the thing might have turned
otherwise; for even at this eleventh hour the Commissary was visibly
staggered. But it was too late; he had been challenged; the
_proces-verbal_ was begun; and he again squared his elbows over his
writing, and the _Arethusa_ was led forth a prisoner.

A step or two down the hot road stood the gendarmerie. Thither was our
unfortunate conducted, and there he was bidden to empty forth the
contents of his pockets. A handkerchief, a pen, a pencil, a pipe and
tobacco, matches, and some ten francs of change: that was all. Not a
file, not a cipher, not a scrap of writing whether to identify or to
condemn. The very gendarme was appalled before such destitution.

"I regret," he said, "that I arrested you, for I see that you are no
_voyou_." And he promised him every indulgence.

The _Arethusa_, thus encouraged, asked for his pipe. That he was told
was impossible, but if he chewed, he might have some tobacco. He did not
chew, however, and asked instead to have his handkerchief.

"_Non_," said the gendarme. "_Nous avons eu des histoires de gens qui se
sont pendus._" (No, we have had histories of people who hanged
themselves.)

"What!" cried the _Arethusa_. "And is it for that you refuse me my
handkerchief? But see how much more easily I could hang myself in my
trousers!"

The man was struck by the novelty of the idea, but he stuck to his
colours, and only continued to repeat vague offers of service.

"At least," said the _Arethusa_, "be sure that you arrest my comrade; he
will follow me ere long on the same road, and you can tell him by the
sack upon his shoulders."

This promised, the prisoner was led round into the back court of the
building, a cellar door was opened, he was motioned down the stair, and
bolts grated and chains cl