“If you go on much longer making excuses, sir, you will have to excuse the length of your excuses; and it is time this came to an end!”
Rose and Blanche smiled at these words of Agricola; while Dagobert rubbed his moustache with pride.
“What wit the boy has!” said he aside to his wife. “But that does not astonish you—you are used to it.”
During this speech, the ceremonious person withdrew, having again directed a long inquiring glance to the sisters, and to Agricola and Dagobert.
In a few minutes after, Frances having spread a mattress on the ground for herself, and put the whitest sheets on her bed for the orphans, assisted them to undress with maternal solicitude, Dagobert and Agricola having previously withdrawn to their garret. Just as the blacksmith, who preceded his father with a light, passed before the door of Mother Bunch’s room, the latter, half concealed in the shade, said to him rapidly, in a low tone:
“Agricola, great danger threatens you: I must speak to you.”
These words were uttered in so hasty and low a voice that Dagobert did not hear them; but as Agricola stopped suddenly, with a start, the old soldier said to him,
“Well, boy, what is it?”
“Nothing, father,” said the blacksmith, turning round; “I feared I did not light you well.”
“Oh, stand at ease about that; I have the legs and eyes of fifteen to night;” and the soldier, not noticing his son’s surprise, went into the little room where they were both to pass the night.