"No, no, no, no," cried Von Wedel, catching hold of them each by one arm. "You two want to run away. I know your tricks! No. The vixen stays here; and the angel"—bending to gaze into Chérie's face—"comes with me and shows me where the brandy is kept."
"She shan't! she shan't!" screamed Mireille, clinging to Chérie's arm.
"Donner und Blitz!" exclaimed Von Wedel, "what a little demon. You just catch hold of her, Glotz, and keep her quiet."
Glotz, who had been sitting at the table eating silently, rose and dried his mouth on one of the beflowered tissue-paper serviettes. "I know where the cellar is," said he, "I saw it on my round with the Herr Kapitän. If the Herr Kapitän permits, I will fetch the brandy myself." And he left the room quickly, paying no heed to Von Wedel's murmured remark that he was a confounded interfering head of a sheep.
Louise had burst into tears when Von Wedel had told Glotz to hold Mireille, and although the captain patted her hand and told her not to cry she went on weeping bitterly while she bandaged his arm.
Von Wedel looked at her a moment and then turned to Chérie. "What relation are you to that weeping Niobe? I forget."
"Sister-in-law," murmured Chérie inaudibly.
"What? Speak louder. I can't hear," said Von Wedel, seating himself on a corner of the table and lighting one of Dr. Brandès's cigars.
"Sister-in-law," repeated Chérie faintly.
"Sister-in-law? Good." He puffed at the cigar. "And I'll be your brother-in-law, shall I? Ah, here is the wine!" he exclaimed as the door was thrown open.