"I? Pooh! As to that, have no anxiety. My father is Mayor of
Meudon. There are plenty who know him. I will go to the Hotel de
Ville, and tell them what is, after all, true - that I am caught
in Paris by the closing of the barriers, and that my father is
expecting me home this evening. They will pass me through. It is
quite simple."
His confidence uplifted them again. The thing seemed as easy as
he represented it.
"Then let your passport be for four, my friend," madame begged him.
"There is Jacques," she explained, indicating the footman who had
just assisted them to alight.
Rougane departed confident of soon returning, leaving them to await
him with the same confidence. But the hours succeeded one another,
the night closed in, bedtime came, and still there was no sign of
his return.
They waited until midnight, each pretending for the other's sake
to a confidence fully sustained, each invaded by vague premonitions
of evil, yet beguiling the time by playing tric-trac in the great
salon, as if they had not a single anxious thought between them.
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