"Caught in the house?" repeated Canolles.
"Why, to be sure. The duke, tired of waiting, and failing to see you leave the inn, will go to the house himself."
"Yes; but I will simply go in and out again."
"Once inside, you won't come out."
"There's no doubt about it, young man," said Canolles, "you are a magician."
"You will be surprised, perhaps killed before her eyes; that's all there is about it."
"Pshaw!" said Canolles, "there are closets there."
"Oh!" exclaimed the viscount.
This oh! was uttered with such an eloquent intonation, it contained such a world of veiled reproach, of offended modesty, of charming delicacy, that Canolles stopped short, and darted a piercing glance at the young man, who was leaning on the window-sill.
Despite the darkness, he felt the full force of the glance, and continued in a playful tone,—