Gabrielle remained aloof, and wept with mingled emotions of shame and mortification, then Merodé began to swear, and say some things that made the poor girl turn alternately cherry red and deadly pale. Again she heard Bernhard whistling, and her anxiety was almost insupportable.
"Der Teufel! yes—to-morrow is the happy day—and Camargo's chaplain—(Camargo's, is it not? oh, yes!)—will do the affair for us; those whom Heaven and Camargo's chaplain have put together—let no rascal put asunder. Right—Henckers! my girl, why do you spin round in that fashion?—and who is that who whistles there?—
"Three days—three days, my love will last,
And—in—three days—my—love is past."
After this, a few indescribable snorts and flourishes were the only signs of life he made; his head had sunk forward on his breast, and fearfully Gabrielle approached him. He was in a profound and unmistakeable drunken sleep. Gabrielle's heart beat like lightning; she sprang to the window, and below, in the twilight, discerned the dark figure of Bernhard.
"You have appeared at last," he growled in a low voice; "I thought you were never coming."
"Pardon me—I have been watched."
"Watched—by whom?" asked Bernhard in a low whisper.
"Merodé."
"Gott in Himmel! do you say so? and he——"
"Is now asleep, as fast as wine can make him."