“Will you be for any supper?” he inquired, with a politeness he felt due to prisoners with purses.
“I do starve!” replied the Baron.
“And I am nearly fainting!” cried the Countess.
Both rose with an alacrity astonishing in people so nearly exhausted, and made as though they would pass out. With a deprecatory gesture Dugald arrested them.
“I will bring your supper fery soon,” said he.
“Here?” gasped the Countess.
“It is the master's orders.”
“Tell him I vill have him ponished mit ze law, if he does not let me come out!” roared the Baron.
Their jailor was courtesy itself; but it was in their prison that they supped—a silent meal, and very plain. And, bitterest pill of all, they were further informed that in their prison they must pass the night.
“In ze same room!” cried the Baron frantically. “Impossible! Improper!”