"Come, Mathilde, let us try what the larder will yield." "I am afraid that Madame still mistrusts us," deplored Des Cadoux.
La Boulaye laughed for answer as he gently but firmly drew her towards the door leading to the interior of the house.

He held it for her to pass, what time his eyes were set in an intent but puzzled glance upon the courier.

There was something about the man that was not wholly strange to La Boulaye.

That morning, when he had spoken in the gruff accents of one of the rabble, no suspicion had entered the Deputy's mind that he was other than he seemed, for all that he now recalled how Tardivet had found the fellow's patriotism a little too patriotic.

Now that he spoke in the voice that was naturally usual to him, it seemed to La Boulaye that it contained a note that he had heard before.
Still puzzled, he passed out of the room to be questioned sharply by the woman of the house touching his motives for passing himself off as her husband and inviting the new-comers to enter.
"I promise you their stay will be a very brief one," he answered.