“Oh, well,” he said, “there is no need of a long sermon. Let us consider what is to be done.”
“You must hide somewhere in the house,” she said, “and I do not know of any place where you would be safe.”
“Should I be safe,” he asked, “in our pigeon house? Who would look for me there?”
She was, of course, highly delighted at the suggestion, but pretended not to be, and said; “It is not a very nice place; it stinks too much.”
“I don’t mind that,” he said. “I would rather be there an hour or two, and be safe, than be in a better place and be caught.”
“Oh, well, if you are brave enough to go there, I am of your opinion that it would be a good hiding-place.”
The poor man ascended into the pigeon-house, which fastened outside, and was locked in, and told his wife that if the sergeants did not come soon, that she was to let him out.
She left him to coo with the pigeons all night, which he did not much like, and he was afraid to speak or call, for fear of the sergeants.
At daybreak, which was the time when her lover left the house, the good woman came and called her husband and opened the door; and he asked her why she had left him so long along with the pigeons. And she, having prepared her reply, said that the sergeants had watched round their house all night, and spoken to her several times, and had only just gone, but they said that they would come back at a time when they were likely to find him.
The poor fellow, much wondering what the sergeants could want with him, left at once, and returned to the country, vowing that he would not come back for a long time. God knows how pleased the wench was at this, though she pretended to be grieved. And by this means she enjoyed herself more than ever, for she had no longer any dread of her husband’s return.