"So—I lie—it is about time that I shut your bold mouth," growled the virago, and raising her voice, she cried: "Robeckal, bring me the bottle."
The next minute hurried steps were heard coming up the stairs, and Rolla hastened to open the locked door. It was Robeckal, who entered with a small bottle in his hand. When Louison saw him she turned deathly pale, and running to the window she burst the panes with her clinched fist and called loudly for help.
"Minx!" hissed Robeckal, forcibly holding her back and throwing her to the ground.
With Rolla's assistance he now poured the contents of the bottle down her throat. When he tried to open the tightly compressed lips, Louison bit him in the finger. He uttered an oath, put a piece of wood between her teeth, and triumphantly exclaimed:
"For the next few hours you are done for, you little hussy."
"If it were only not too much," said Rolla, as Louison, groaning loudly, sank backward and closed her eyes.
"Have no fear; I know my methods," laughed Robeckal. "I am not so foolish as to kill the little one before we have the vicomte's money in our hands. She will sleep a few hours, and wake up tamed. Come, let us put her on the sofa and leave her alone."
The worthy pair laid the unconscious girl on the sofa and went away. Rolla, on closing the door, put the key in her pocket. They began to play cards in the basement, a pursuit which agreed with them, and at the same time swallowed deep draughts of brandy.
Toward six o'clock the vicomte entered. He threw a well-filled pocket-book on the table, and in a tone of command said: "The key!"
"First we will count," growled Rolla; and opening the pocket-book with her fat hands she passed the contents in review.