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"
Very well, sir," she said coldly, "you know that you are committing a
crime. Days like this have a to-morrow; proceed."
The Sieur Hivert attempted a few words of explanation, or we should
rather say justification; he muttered the word "conscience," he
stammered the word "honor." Madame Victor Hugo, who had been calm until
then, could not help interrupting him with some abruptness.
"Do your business, sir, and do not argue; you know that every official
who lays a hand on a Representative of the People commits an act of
treason. You know that in presence of the Representatives the President
is only an official like the others, the chief charged with carrying out
their orders. You dare to come to arrest a Representative in his own
home like a criminal! There is in truth a criminal here who ought to be
arrested--yourself!"
The Sieur Hivert looked sheepish and left the room, and through the
half-open door my wife could see, behind the well-fed, well-clothed,
and bald Commissary, seven or eight poor raw-boned devils, wearing dirty
coats which reached to their feet, and shocking old hats jammed down over
their eyes--wolves led by a dog. They examined the room, opened here and
there a few cupboards, and went away--with a sorrowful air--as Isidore
said to me.
The Commissary Hivert, above all, hung his head; he raised it, however,
for one moment. Isidore, indignant at seeing these men thus hunt for his
master in every corner, ventured to defy them. He opened a drawer and
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