To the questions put to him he replied, without knowing what he said.  Two police agents took hold of his arms, and helped him down the stairs.  He could not have walked down alone.  His limbs, which bent beneath him, refused their support.  The only thing he understood of all that was said around him was that the count had been struck with apoplexy; but even that he soon forgot.

They lifted him into the cab, which was waiting in the court-yard at the foot of the steps, rather ashamed at finding itself in such a place; and they placed him on the back seat.  Two police agents installed themselves in front of him while a third mounted the box by the side of the driver.  During the drive, he did not at all realize his situation.  He lay perfectly motionless in the dirty, greasy vehicle.  His body, which followed every jolt, scarcely allayed by the worn-out springs, rolled from one side to the other and his head oscillated on his shoulders, as if the muse of his neck were broken.  He thought of Widow Lerouge.  He recalled her as she was when he went with his father to La Jonchere.  It was in the spring-time; and the hawthorn blossoms scented the air.  The old woman, in a white cap, stood at her garden gate:  she spoke beseechingly.  The count looked sternly at her as he listened, then, taking some gold from his purse, he gave it to her.

On arriving at their destination they lifted him out of the cab, the same way as they had lifted him in at starting.

During the formality of entering his name in the jail-book in the dingy, stinking record office, and whilst replying mechanically to everything, he gave himself up with delight to recollections of Claire.  He went back to the time of the early days of their love, when he doubted whether he would ever have the happiness of being loved by her in return; when they used to meet at Mademoiselle Goello’s.

This old maid had a house on the left bank of the Seine furnished in the most eccentric manner.  On all the dining-room furniture, and on the mantel-piece, were placed a dozen or fifteen stuffed dogs, of various breeds, which together or successively had helped to cheer the maiden’s lonely hours.  She loved to relate stories of these pets whose affection had never failed her.  Some were grotesque, others horrible.  One especially, outrageously stuffed seemed ready to burst.  How many times he and Claire had laughed at it until the tears came!

The officials next began to search him.  This crowning humiliation, these rough hands passing all over his body brought him somewhat to himself, and roused his anger.  But it was already over; and they at once dragged him along the dark corridors, over the filthy, slippery floor.  They opened a door, and pushed him into a small cell.  He then heard them lock and bolt the door.

He was a prisoner, and, in accordance with special orders, in solitary confinement.  He immediately felt a marked sensation of comfort.  He was alone.