and gave a shriek of despair when
he had vainly sought any trace of a
secret spring. It was impossible to
ignore the horrible truth. The door,
cleverly constructed to serve the
vengeful purposes of the Duchess,
could not be opened from within.
Rinaldo laid his cheek against the
wall in various spots; nowhere
could he feel the warmer air from
the passage. He had hoped he
might find a crack that would show
him where there was an opening in
the wall, but nothing, nothing! The
whole seemed to be of one block of
marble.
Then he gave a hollow roar like
that of a hyaena----
“Well, we fancied that the cry of the hyaena was a recent invention
of our own!” said Lousteau, “and here it was already known to the
literature of the Empire. It is even introduced with a certain skill in
natural history, as we see in the word _hollow_.”
“Make no more comments, monsieur,” said Madame de la Baudraye.
“There, you see!” cried Bianchon. “Interest, the romantic demon, has you
by the collar, as he had me a while ago.”
“Read on,” cried de Clagny, “I understand.”
“What a coxcomb!” said the Presiding Judge in a whisper to his neighbor
the Sous-prefet.
“He wants to please Madame de la Baudraye,” replied the new Sous-prefet.
“Well, then I will read straight on,” said Lousteau solemnly.
Everybody listened in dead silence.