stormy passages, had retired to a corner of the room. Rougon, however,
formed a heroic resolution. He advanced towards the group, and in a very
proud tone exclaimed: "We will keep this man here. When he has reflected
on his position he will be able to give us some useful information."
Then, in a still more dignified voice, he went on: "I will discharge my
duty, gentlemen. I have sworn to save the town from anarchy, and I
will save it, even should I have to be the executioner of my nearest
relative."

One might have thought him some old Roman sacrificing his family on the
altar of his country. Granoux, who felt deeply moved, came to press his
hand with a tearful countenance, which seemed to say: "I understand you;
you are sublime!" And then he did him the kindness to take everybody
away, under the pretext of conducting the four other prisoners into the
courtyard.

When Pierre was alone with his brother, he felt all his self-possession
return to him. "You hardly expected me, did you?" he resumed. "I
understand things now; you have been laying plots against me. You
wretched fellow; see what your vices and disorderly life have brought
you to!"

Macquart shrugged his shoulders. "Shut up," he replied; "go to the
devil. You're an old rogue. He laughs best who laughs last."

Thereupon Rougon, who had formed no definite plan with regard to him,
thrust him into a dressing-room whither Monsieur Garconnet retired to
rest sometimes. This room lighted from above, had no other means of
exit than the doorway by which one entered. It was furnished with a few
arm-chairs, a sofa, and a marble wash-stand. Pierre double-locked the
door, after partially unbinding his brother's hands. Macquart was then
heard to throw himself on the sofa, and start singing the "Ca Ira" in a
loud voice, as though he were trying to sing himself to sleep.

Rougon, who at last found himself alone, now in his turn sat down in
the mayor's arm-chair. He heaved a sigh as he wiped his brow. How hard,
indeed, it was to win fortune and honours! However, he was nearing the
end at last. He felt the soft seat of the arm-chair yield beneath him,
while with a mechanical movement he caressed the mahogany writing-table
with his hands, finding it apparently quite silky and delicate, like the
skin of a beautiful woman. Then he spread himself out, and assumed
the dignified attitude which Macquart had previously affected while
listening to the proclamation. The silence of th