In the main portion Major von Brandenburg had established his headquarters with his staff housed in the rooms about him. But there was room in the remaining wing of the château for prisoners. A cell—originally a scullery—in the basement served Erard till such time as the court might sit. Probably, as Carl Baum intimated, shortly after the sentence was pronounced the Frenchman would not need a cell.
The corporal sent away the sentinel in the corridor on some errand and allowed his cousin to go to the door of the cell. Heavy screening took the place of glass in the upper half of the door.
Erard sat upon a bench, his chin in his palm. But when he looked up to see who darkened the window opening, his twisted smile greeted the nurse.
"Ma foi! you are welcome, Mademoiselle, though I may not offer you a chair in these, my poor quarters."
"Oh, my dear friend!" gasped the nurse. "This is a dreadful place, and a dreadful pass you have come to, my poor Erard!"
"Weep not for me, dear Mademoiselle Belinda. Poof! what is a jail more or less? I have often slept in worse cells. For sure! Half my boyhood I was a guest of the so-good police," and his roguish look appeared again. "Ask Monsieur Renaud. He knows me."
"Oh, Erard! I did not think it of you!" the girl sighed.
"No? I have made myself another reputation in the hospital—have I not? It was a fancy of mine. All my life I have been quite bad. Oh, yes, Mademoiselle; quite bad. And as they could not send me to the Bataillon d'Afrique—I am not a marching man—I should kiss the sharp knife in the end if it were not for this. I shall die a noble death, Mademoiselle, pour la patrie."
"And to save Monsieur Sanderson," the girl whispered.
"So I may hope. A fine man," said Erard quite cheerfully.