The bewildered lover not replying, he continued: "I am a commissary of
police, and I summon you to tell me your name."
George, who was quivering with brutal wrath, shouted: "Answer, you
coward, or I will tell your name myself."
Then the man in the bed stammered: "Mr. Commissary, you ought not to
allow me to be insulted by this person. Is it with you or with him that
I have to do? Is it to you or to him that I have to answer?"
His mouth seemed to be dried up as he spoke.
The commissary replied: "With me, sir; with me alone. I ask you who you
are?"
The other was silent. He held the sheet close up to his neck, and rolled
his startled eyes. His little, curled-up moustache showed up black upon
his blanched face.
The commissary continued: "You will not answer, eh? Then I shall be
forced to arrest you. In any case, get up. I will question you when you
are dressed."
The body wriggled in the bed, and the head murmured: "But I cannot,
before you."