But at the same time he was deeply uneasy. What would that devil do next, now that he was back? He had not waited long to strike. But, short of imprisoning them in different rooms—a most distasteful possibility—the young man did not see what he could do.
It was about two o'clock next afternoon, a little before the time when Laurent usually took his walk on the terrace, that steps outside the door roused him from the book he was reading.
"My escort," he said with a yawn. "The fellows are early."
But there entered instead—Colonel Guitton.
Laurent's heart descended to his boots. Aymar immediately pulled himself out of his chair, and stood looking out of the window.
"Good afternoon, Monsieur de Courtomer," said the Bonapartist, taking on his side no notice of L'Oiseleur. "A pleasant day, is it not?" He came forward into the room, limping a little, as Laurent was delighted to see. "You have not yet gone out for your constitutional, then? It was really à propos of that that I came—to suggest that you should, if you wished, have liberty to extend it."
"You are very kind, Monsieur le Colonel," murmured Laurent, taken aback.
"In fact, I have been reflecting that it would perhaps be more agreeable for you to become a prisoner on parole altogether now."
"But why should I suddenly become a prisoner on parole?"
"Because," responded the Colonel, showing his teeth in his false smile, "you will henceforward be alone in captivity, and, as an alleviation, I thought——"