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I will perhaps see her again later, when the Captain shall have recovered consciousness. You, Citoyenne Capoulade, assist me to carry him to bed." Each obeyed him, Guyot readily, as became a soldier, and the hostess trembling with the dread which La Boulaye's words had instilled into her.
Then he went to the door, and calling Dame Capoulade, he bade her set two fresh covers; in which he was expeditiously obeyed. La Boulaye stood by the fire, his pale face impassive now and almost indifferent.
On a chair that had been set upon the table they beheld Mother Capoulade enthroned like a Goddess of Liberty, and wearing a Phrygian cap on her dishevelled locks. Her yellow cheeks were flushed and her eyes watery, whilst hers was the crazy voice that sang.
Into the room came the hostess, breathless and grinning with anxiety, and behind her came Guyot, who, startled by the din, had hastened up to inquire into its cause. At sight of the Captain stretched upon the floor there was a scream from Mother Capoulade and an oath from the soldier. "Mon Dieu! what has happened?" she cried, hurrying forward.
When Dame Capoulade had withdrawn, after bringing them their wine and casting a few logs upon the fire, La Boulaye turned his back to the hearth and confronted his host. "Why are you not with the army, Charlot?" he asked in a tone which made the question sound like a demand. "Have they not told you," rejoined the other airily, engrossed in filling the glasses.
In an access of rage at what he saw, and at the ample evidences of the debauch that had reduced them to this condition, Charlot began by kicking the chair from under Mother Capoulade. The noise of her fall and the scream with which she awoke served to arouse one or two others, who lifted their heads to gaze stupidly about them. But Charlot was busy stirring the other slumberers.
Slipping the phial into his sash he turned to Mother Capoulade, who had descended from the table and stood looking very foolish. "What is this?" he demanded angrily. "It was a last cup of wine for the men," she faltered. "The night is bitterly cold, Citizen," she added, by way of excusing herself. "Bah!" snarled Caron, and for a moment he stood there as if deliberating.
"Le jour de gloire est arrive?" sang the croaking voice of Dame Capoulade, and there it stopped abruptly upon catching sight of La Boulaye and his companion in the doorway. Mademoiselle shivered out of loathing; but La Boulaye felt his pulses quickened with hope, for surely all this was calculated to assist him in his purpose.
If you would have him well to-morrow, remember that it is of the first importance that he should have utter rest tonight." With that he went in quest of Dame Capoulade to ascertain whether she possessed any potion that would induce sleep.
The dreary emptiness of the rain-washed yard afforded them more than ample confirmation. "Where is your pig of an ostler, Mother Capoulade?" demanded the angry Captain. Quivering with terror, she answered him that the rascal should be in the shed by the stables, where it was his wont to sleep.
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