“I’ll agree to anything,” 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.”
“I’ll do it,” said Bagsby, quietly; “anything is better than being murdered in cold blood.”
The countenance of the poissarde brightened.
“Aha!” said she, taking the submissive Bagsby by the ear, “so thou art to be my republican husband after all, coquin? Come along. I shall take care that thou dost not escape again to-night, and to-morrow I shall keep thee for ever!”