in his turn.  What was to be done?  And then they were spied upon.  This takes place between officials.  The slightest word would be maliciously interpreted, the slightest gesture would be laid to their discredit.  How should he keep on good terms at the same time this Cabbage, which is called To-day, and that Goat, which is called To-morrow?  To ask too many questions would offend the General, to render to many salutations would annoy the President.  How could he be at the same time very much a sub-prefect, and in some degree a lacquey?  How could he combine the appearance of obsequiousness, which would please Changarnier, with the appearance of authority, which would please Bonaparte?

The sub-prefect thought to get out of the difficulty by saying, “General, you are my prisoner,” and by adding, with a smile, “Do me the honor of breakfasting with me?” He addressed the same words to Charras.

The General refused curtly.

Charras looked at him fixedly, and did not answer him.

Doubts regarding the identity of the prisoners came to the mind of the sub-prefect.  He whispered to the Commissary “Are you quite sure?” “Certainly,” said the Commissary.

The sub-prefect decided to address himself to Charras, and dissatisfied with the manner in which his advances had been received, asked him somewhat sharply, “But, in short, who are you?”

Charras answered, “We are packages.”

And turning to his keepers who were now in their turn in keeping:—­

“Apply to our exporters.  Ask our Custom House officers.  It is a mere matter of goods traffic.”

They set the electric telegraph to work.  Valenciennes, alarmed, questioned Paris.  The sub-prefect informed the Minister of the Interior that, thanks to a strict supervision, which he had trusted to no one but himself, he had just effected an important capture, that he had just discovered a plot, had saved the President, had saved society, had saved religion, etc., that in one word he had just arrested General Changarnier and Colonel Charras, who had escaped that morning from the fort of Ham with false passports, doubtless for the purpose of heading a rising, etc., and that, in short, he asked the Government what was to be done with the two prisoners.

At the end of an hour the answer arrived:—­“Let them go on their way.”

The police perceived that in a burst of zeal they had pushed profundity to the point of stupidity.  That sometimes happens.

The next train carried away the prisoners, restored, not to liberty, but to their keepers.

They passed Quievrain.

They got down from the carriage, and got in again.

When the train again started Charras heaved the deep, joyous sigh of a freed man, and said, “At last!”

He raised his eyes, and perceived his two jailers by his side.

They had got up behind him into the carriage.