"Let the citizen show me his hands." "Plague take you!" said Antoine, in a whisper.

"What sulky fit possesses you, my comrade?
Let the poor wretch alone.

What wouldst thou with his hands?
Wait a little, and thou shall have his head." "We should have few heads or prisoners either, if thou hadst the care of them," said Francois, sharply.

"I say that the prisoner secretes something, and that I will see it.

Show your hands, dog of an aristocrat!" Monsieur the Viscount set his teeth to keep himself from speaking, and held out his hands in silence, toad and all.
Both the men started back with an exclamation, and Francois got behind his comrade, and swore over his shoulder.
Monsieur the Viscount stood upright and still, with a smile on his white face.