I followed him, but Pasdeloup, his arms folded, his head sunk in reverie, kept his place at the battlement, staring moodily down at the drunken revel.
We descended to the floor below where Pasdeloup’s candle was still burning. A glance at it showed me that it had been half consumed. An hour more and we should be in darkness—if indeed we had not entered the eternal darkness long ere that!
In the first moment I thought the room was empty; then I saw madame half-sitting, half-lying on a couch in one corner, holding the younger woman in her arms. As we approached she raised a warning finger to her lips, and I saw with a sudden burst of tenderness that Charlotte had fallen asleep.
“Do not disturb her,” warned madame in a low voice; but at that instant the sleeper opened her eyes.
For a moment she stared up at us blankly; then her eyes met mine and a wave of crimson swept from brow to chin.
“I have been asleep,” she said, sitting hastily erect. “In spite of all my boasting,” she added, smiling up at me.
“Yes,” said M. le Comte; “and you should be proud of your steady nerves and clear conscience, my dear. Not many of us are able to sleep so peacefully in the face of danger.”
“Danger?” she repeated, and looked about her. “Has it come, then?”
“Oh, not a pressing danger,” he assured her. “Still, we must devise some means of escape before it becomes so. We shall have to take the light, I fear.”
“Do so,” said madame promptly. “Charlotte and I will ascend to the platform.”