At last, at break of day, he threw himself on to a sofa, and fell into a
heavy sleep peopled with phantoms.
At half-past nine in the morning, he was suddenly awakened, by the noise
of the door being hastily opened. A servant entered, with a scared look
on his face, and so out of breath from having come up the stairs four at
a time, that he could scarcely speak.
"Sir," said he, "viscount, be quick, fly and hide, save yourself, they
are here, it is the--"
A commissary of police, wearing his sash, appeared at the door. He
was followed by a number of men, among whom M. Tabaret could be seen,
keeping as much out of sight as possible.
The commissary approached Albert.
"You are," he asked, "Guy Louis Marie Albert de Rheteau de Commarin?"
"Yes, sir."
The commissary placed his hand upon him, while pronouncing the usual
formula: "M. de Commarin, in the name of the law I arrest you."
"Me, sir? me?"
Albert, aroused suddenly from his painful dreams, seemed hardly to
comprehend what was taking place, seemed to ask himself,--"Am I really
awake? Is not this some hideous nightmare?"
He threw a stupid, astonished look upon the commissary of police, his
men, and M.
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