At almost the same moment Gaspard stumbled to his feet.
"Asleep—asleep!" he exclaimed—"Mon Dieu!—the shame of it!—the shame! What pigs are men! To sleep after food and wine, and to leave a woman alone like this!... the shame!"
Morgana, quietly steering the "White Eagle," smiled.
"Poor Gaspard!" she said—"You could not help it! You were so tired! And you, Marchese! You were both quite worn out! I was glad to see you sleeping—there is no shame in it! As I have often told you, I can manage the ship alone."
But Rivardi was white with anger and self-reproach.
"Gross pigs we are!" he said, hotly—"Gaspard is right! And yet—" here he passed a hand across his brow and tried to collect his thoughts—"yes!—surely something unusual must have happened! We heard bells ringing—"
Morgana watched him closely, her hand on her air-vessel's helm.
"Yes—we all thought we heard bells"—she said—"But that was a noise in our own brains—the clamour of our own blood brought on by pressure—we were flying at too great a height and the tension was too strong—"
Gaspard threw out his hands with a half defiant gesture.
"No, Madama! It could not be so! I swear we never left our own level! What happened I cannot tell—but I felt that I was struck by a sudden blow—and I fell without force to recover—"