It was the poissarde. Nothing on earth is so wakeful as a jealous woman. She had suspected the designs of the wretched Minister of Marine, and counterfeited sleep only to detect him in the act of escaping.
Not a moment was to be lost. I knew that if this woman gave the alarm, Bagsby would inevitably be hanged with his own rope, and I stole towards the couple, in order to effect, if possible, a reconciliation.
“Ah, citizen, is it thou?” said the poissarde more loudly than was at all convenient. “Here is thy fellow trying to play me a pretty trick! Perfidious monster! was this what thou meant by all thy professions of love?”
“For heaven’s sake, take the woman off, or she will strangle me!” muttered Bagsby.
“Pray, hush! my dear madam, hush!” said I, “or you may wake some of our friends.”
“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.”