He did not remember how he had passed the night; he had never before felt so fresh, so agile, in such spirits; he seemed to have springs of steel in his limbs.
He burst like a cannon-shot into the magistrate's office, knocking up against the methodical clerk in the rudest of ways, without even asking his pardon.
"Caught!" he cried, while yet on the threshold, "caught, nipped, squeezed, strung, trapped, locked! We have got the man." Old Tabaret, more Tirauclair than ever, gesticulated with such comical vehemence and such remarkable contortions that even the tall clerk smiled, for which, however, he took himself severely to task on going to bed that night.
But M.Daburon, still under the influence of Noel's deposition, was shocked at this apparently unseasonable joy; although he felt the safer for it.

He looked severely at old Tabaret, saying,--"Hush, sir; be decent, compose yourself." At any other time, the old fellow would have felt ashamed at having deserved such a reprimand.

Now, it made no impression on him.
"I can't be quiet," he replied.

"Never has anything like this been known before.

All that I mentioned has been found.