“What care I,” said the poissarde; “let them wake, and I will denounce the villain who has dared to trifle with my affections!”
“Nay, but consider the consequences!” said I. “Do, pray, be silent for one moment. Bagsby, this is a bad business!”
“You need not tell me that,” groaned Bagsby.
“Your life depends upon this woman, and you must appease her somehow.”
“I’ll agree to any thing,” said the terrified Minister of Marine.
“Yes! I will be avenged!” cried the poissarde; “I will have his heart’s blood, since he has dared to deceive me. How! is this the way they treat a daughter of the people?”
“Citoyenne!” I said, “you are wrong—utterly wrong. Believe me, he loves you passionately. What proof do you desire?”
“Let him marry me to-morrow,” said the poissarde, “in this very room, or I shall immediately raise the alarm.”
I tried to mitigate the sentence, but the poissarde was perfectly obdurate.
“Bagsby, there is no help for it!” said I. “We are in the midst of a revolution, and must go along with it. She insists upon you marrying her to-morrow. The alternative is instant death.”