“And how am I to get away?” said Julien in a jesting tone affecting the Creole accent. (One of the chambermaids of the household had been born in Saint-Domingo.)
“You? Why you will leave by the door,” said Mathilde, delighted at the idea.
“Ah! how worthy this man is of all my love,” she thought.
Julien had just let the cord fall into the garden; Mathilde grasped his arm. He thought he had been seized by an enemy and turned round sharply, drawing a dagger. She had thought that she had heard a window opening. They remained motionless and scarcely breathed. The moonlight lit up everything. The noise was not renewed and there was no more cause for anxiety.
Then their embarrassment began again; it was great on both sides. Julien assured himself that the door was completely locked; he thought of looking under the bed, but he did not dare; “they might have stationed one or two lackeys there.” Finally he feared that he might reproach himself in the future for this lack of prudence, and did look. Mathilde had fallen into all the anguish of the most extreme timidity. She was horrified at her position.
“What have you done with my letters?” she said at last.
“What a good opportunity to upset these gentlemen, if they are eavesdropping, and thus avoiding the battle,” thought Julien.
“The first is hid in a big Protestant Bible, which last night’s diligence is taking far away from here.”
He spoke very distinctly as he went into these details, so as to be heard by any persons who might be concealed in two large mahogany cupboards which he had not dared to inspect.
“The other two are in the post and are bound for the same destination as the first.”