His eyes, though garnished with spectacles, pierced the
glasses with a keen mocking glance. The Justice of the Peace, a
retired attorney, and an old admirer of the fair sex, envied the
delinquent.
"Pray excuse the strong measures required by our office, Monsieur le
Baron!" said the constable; "we are acting for the plaintiff. The
Justice of the Peace is here to authorize the visitation of the
premises.--I know who you are, and who the lady is who is accused."
Valerie opened her astonished eyes, gave such a shriek as actresses
use to depict madness on the stage, writhed in convulsions on the bed,
like a witch of the Middle Ages in her sulphur-colored frock on a bed
of faggots.
"Death, and I am ready! my dear Hector--but a police court?--Oh!
never."
With one bound she passed the three spectators and crouched under the
little writing-table, hiding her face in her hands.
"Ruin! Death!" she cried.
"Monsieur," said Marneffe to Hulot, "if Madame Marneffe goes mad, you
are worse than a profligate; you will be a murderer."
What can a man do, what can he say, when he is discovered in a bed
which is not his, even on the score of hiring, with a woman who is no
more his than the bed is?--Well, this:
"Monsieur the Justice of the Peace, Monsieur the Police Officer," said
the Baron with some dignity, "be good enough to take proper care of
that unhappy woman, whose reason seems to me to be in danger.
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