"Those pictures caused a very hot quarrel between them yesterday, and it is a word and a blow with artists, they tell me." "Who is there in Issoudun who had any object in killing Gilet ?" said Lousteau.

"No one,--neither a jealous husband nor anybody else; for the fellow has never harmed a soul." "But what was Monsieur Gilet doing in the streets at four in the morning ?" remarked Monsieur Hochon.
"Now, Monsieur Hochon, you must allow us to manage this affair in our own way," answered Mouilleron; "you don't know all: Gilet recognized your painter." At this instant a clamor was heard from the other end of the town, growing louder and louder, like the roll of thunder, as it followed the course of the Grande-Narette.
"Here he is! here he is!--he's arrested!" These words rose distinctly on the ear above the hoarse roar of the populace.

Poor Joseph, returning quietly past the mill at Landrole intending to get home in time for breakfast, was spied by the various groups of people, as soon as he reached the place Misere.

Happily for him, a couple of gendarmes arrived on a run in time to snatch him from the inhabitants of the faubourg de Rome, who had already pinioned him by the arms and were threatening him with death.
"Give way! give way!" cried the gendarmes, calling to some of their comrades to help them, and putting themselves one before and the other behind Bridau.
"You see, monsieur," said the one who held the painter, "it concerns our skin as well as yours at this moment.

Innocent or guilty, we must protect you against the tumult raised by the murder of Captain Gilet.
And the crowd is not satisfied with suspecting you; they declare, hard as iron, that you are the murderer.