Suddenly a child's voice from a window above broke the silence.
"Ah, forgive me, papa and Angelot, but I have heard all, every word you have been saying. It was so interesting, I could not shut the window and go to sleep. Well, little papa, what do you say to Angelot? Tell him you will help him, we will both help him, to the last drop of our blood."
Angelot sprang from his seat with an exclamation, to look up at the window. A small, white-clad figure stood there, a round dark head against the dim light of the room. The voice had something pathetic as well as comical.
"Mille tonnerres!" shouted Monsieur Joseph, very angry. "Go to bed this instant, little imp, or I shall come upstairs with a birch rod. You will gain nothing by your dishonourable listening. I shall send you to Mademoiselle Moineau to-morrow, to learn lessons all day long."
"Ah, papa, if you do, I can talk to Hélène about Angelot," said Henriette, and she hastily shut the window.
The two men looked at each other and laughed.
"Good night, dear uncle," said Angelot, gently. "I leave my cause in your hands—and Riette's!"
"You are mad—we are all mad together. Go home and expect nothing," said Monsieur Joseph.