Laurence was stupefied; the fatal words of the director of the jury hummed in her ears:—­“In the name of the Emperor and the laws, I arrest the Sieurs Paul-Marie and Marie-Paul Simeuse, Adrien and Robert d’Hauteserre—­These gentlemen,” he added, addressing the men who accompanied him and pointing to the mud on the clothing of the prisoners, “cannot deny that they have spent the greater part of this day on horseback.”

“Of what are they accused?” asked Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, haughtily.

“Don’t you mean to arrest Mademoiselle?” said Giguet.

“I shall leave her at liberty under bail, until I can carefully examine the charges against her,” replied the director.

The mayor offered bail, asking the countess to merely give her word of honor that she would not escape.  Laurence blasted him with a look which made him a mortal enemy; a tear started from her eyes, one of those tears of rage which reveal a hell of suffering.  The four gentlemen exchanged a terrible look, but remained motionless.  Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre, dreading lest the young people had practised some deceit, were in a state of indescribable stupefaction.  Clinging to their chairs these unfortunate parents, finding their sons torn from them after so many fears and their late hopes of safety, sat gazing before them without seeing, listening without hearing.

“Must I ask you to bail me, Monsieur d’Hauteserre?” cried Laurence to her former guardian, who was roused by the cry, clear and agonizing to his ear as the sound of the last trumpet.

He tried to wipe the tears which sprang to his eyes; he now understood what was passing, and said to his young relation in a quivering voice, “Forgive me, countess; you know that I am yours, body and soul.”

Lechesneau, who at first was much struck by the evident tranquillity in which the whole party were dining, now returned to his former opinion of their guilt as he noticed the stupefaction of the old people and the evident anxiety of Laurence, who was seeking to discover the nature of the trap which was set for them.

“Gentlemen,” he said, politely, “you are too well-bred to make a useless resistance; follow me to the stables, where I must, in your presence, have the shoes of your horses taken off; they afford important proof of either guilt or innocence.  Come, too, mademoiselle.”

The blacksmith of Cinq-Cygne and his assistant had been summoned by Lechesneau as experts.  While the operation at the stable was going on the justice of peace brought in Gothard and Michu.  The work of detaching the shoes of each horse, putting them together and ticketing them, so as to compare them with the hoof-prints in the park, took time.  Lechesneau, notified of the arrival of Pigoult, left the prisoners with the gendarmes and returned to the dining-room to dictate the indictment.  The justice of peace called his attention to the condition of Michu’s clothes and related the circumstances of his arrest.