She endeavoured to give it a finishing touch; but in vain, she could not make it look natural.
“I shall have to go to bed myself,” she said.
She looked at the clock; it was exactly seven, and she felt that it would look extraordinary for her to be in bed so early. As to feigning illness, it was useless to think of it: the Jacobin cook would detect the ruse.
She remained thoughtful for some seconds; then calmly, simply, with royal unconcern, she undressed before me, got into bed, and ordered me to take off my shoes, my coat, and my cravat.
“There is nothing for it but for you to be my lover, and for them to surprise us together. When they arrive you will not have had time to re-arrange your disordered clothes. You will open the door to them in your vest,[[21]] with your hair rumpled.”
[21]. The vest was worn under the coat. It was a sort of waistcoat, longer than ours, and provided with sleeves of full length. (Author.)
All our arrangements were made when the search party, with many exclamations of “Sacré!” and “Peste!” descended from the garrets.
The unfortunate Planchonnet was seized with such a paroxysm of trembling that he shook the whole bed.