CHAPTER II.
THE ARREST.“Good gracious! M. Rodolph,” exclaimed Rigolette, running in, pale and trembling, “a commissary of police and the guard have come here.”
“Divine justice watches over me,” said M. Pipelet, in a transport of pious gratitude. “They have come to arrest Cabrion; unfortunately it is too late.”
A commissary of police, wearing his tricoloured scarf around his waist underneath his black coat, entered the lodge. His countenance was impressive, magisterial, and serious.
“M. le Commissaire is too late; the malefactor has escaped,” said M. Pipelet, in a sorrowful voice; “but I will give you his description,—villainous smile, impudent look, insulting—”
“Of whom do you speak?” inquired the magistrate.
“Of Cabrion, M. le Commissaire; but, perhaps, if you make all haste, it is
