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"Look sharp!" shouted the Prefect of Police, darting forward. "Telephone for the engines, quick, in case of fire!" He caught Mazeroux by the arm: "Run to my motor; you'll see her a hundred yards down the boulevard. Tell the man to drive you to Don Luis, and, if you find him, release him and bring him here." "Under arrest, Monsieur le Préfet?" "Under arrest? You're mad!"

While he was waiting, Titianus remembered the young sculptor Pollux, whose acquaintance he had made, and his mother in the pretty little gate- house. Well disposed towards them as he felt, he sent at once to old Doris, desiring her not to retire to rest early that evening, since he, the prefect, would be going late to Lochias.

Allowing that the Cardinal Secretary held Europe, that diminutive portion of the globe, did not he, the Prefect, hold all the rest the infinity of space, the distant countries as yet almost unknown?

The prefect, Comte Martial de la Roche-Hugon, had been a friend of the general since 1804; and it was a word from him said to Montcornet in a conversation in Paris, which brought about the purchase of Les Aigues. Comte Martial, a prefect under Napoleon, remained a prefect under the Bourbons, and courted the bishop to retain his place.

At noon, November 25, the twelve thousand old soldiers of the Guard, bronzed, covered with glorious wounds, some already gray, made their solemn entry into Paris. An arch of triumph, broader and higher than the Porte Saint Martin, had been built at the gate of La Villette. The Prefect of the Seine and the municipal authorities there awaited the veterans.

You must not let her see you so! It is very clear what news you bring. The prefect will not help us?" "Help us!" echoed Philip, wrathfully. "In Alexandria a man may drown rather than another will risk wetting his feet." "Nay, it is not so bad as that," said the old woman. "Alexander himself has burned his fingers for others many a time. Wait a minute. I will fetch you a draught of wine.

Macrinus knew enough of human nature to observe the miserable disquietude that had seized upon the emperor at his bride's continued absence, but he took good care not to refer to the subject. When Caracalla, however, could no longer conceal his anxiety, and asked after her himself, the prefect gave the appointed sign to Epagathos, who then handed Melissa's freshly re-sealed letter to his master.

The only one who would have been bold enough was Flavia, and even if she had been present she would not have had the heart to perform such an act of unselfishness. Faustina and Corona, Giovanni and the prefect, left the room together. "I will have you in prison before morning," said Sant' Ilario fiercely, in the ear of the official, as they reached the outer hall.

This gave food for thought to the prefect, too; but before entering the tablinum he was stopped by the freedman Epagathos, who handed over to him a scroll which had been given to him for the emperor. The messenger had disappeared directly afterward, and could not be overtaken. Might it not endanger the life of the reader by exhaling a poisonous perfume?

In the first place I felt somebody lying in my bed, and in the second I saw the prefect, with a candle in his hand, coming along slowly and taking a survey of all the beds right and left. I could understand the prefect suddenly lighting a candle, but how could I realize what I saw namely, one of my comrades sleeping soundly in my bed, with his back turned to me?