Behind him the study, with its closely-drawn shutters, appeared wrapped in gloom.
Merlin turned to his men, and, still delighted with his position of a cat playing with a mouse, he pointed to Deroulede, with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders.
"_Voyez-moi donc ca,_" he said, with a coarse jest, and expectorating contemptuously upon the floor, "the aristocrat seems not to understand that we are here in the name of the Republic.

There is a very good proverb, Citizen-Deputy," he added, once more addressing Deroulede, "which you seem to have forgotten, and that is that the pitcher which goes too often to the well breaks at last.

You have conspired against the liberties of the people for the past ten years.

Retribution has come to you at last; the people of France have come to their senses.

The National Convention wants to know what treason you are hatching between these four walls, and it has deputed me to find out all there is to know." "At your service, Citizen-Deputy!" said Deroulede, quietly stepping aside, in order to make way for Merlin and his men.
Resistance was useless, and, like all strong, determined natures, he knew when it was best to give in.
During this while, Juliette had neither moved nor uttered a sound.
Little more than a minute had elapsed since the moment when the first peremptory order, to open in the name of the Republic, had sounded like the tocsin through the stillness of the house.