CHAPTER XXIII.
'So! Gabrielle, what do you think?' asked Corporal Deschwanden, a couple of days after the riot at Réveillon's house.
The girl looked up wistfully at him. There was promise of good tidings in the tone of his voice.
'You have to thank my wife and Madeleine.'
'For what?' asked Madame Deschwanden, turning sharply round.
'For having been so provident as to exert themselves to preserve some of Réveillon's property.'
'The mother-of-pearl box!' exclaimed madame. 'Ah! I shall never forgive you.'
'Yes, you will, when you hear all,' said the corporal, positively.
'Well, what is it, what is it?' asked the lady, stamping impatiently. 'You Germans are so slow, I have to fish for an hour before I can catch a minnow. Take a Frenchman! he pours out everything into your lap at the first appeal, and throws himself at your feet into the bargain. But a German, or a German-Swiss, like you! My faith! I have to use a screw for ever so long, and, in the end, I only extract little bits of worthless cork. What is it? Will you tell me? Do you not see I am dying—perishing slowly from curiosity?'
'Curiosity, yes!' said the corporal. 'That is the bane of women. Wife! did you ever hear the story——'