her indignation, she
told them in plain terms what he demanded of her.

The general indignation was so violent that nobody was shocked. Cornudet
brought his beer glass down on the table with such a bang that it broke.
There was a perfect babel of invective against the base wretch, a
hurricane of wrath, a union of all for resistance, as if each had been
required to contribute a portion of the sacrifice demanded of the one.
The Count protested with disgust that these people behaved really as if
they were early barbarians. The women, in particular, accorded her the
most lively and affectionate sympathy. The nuns, who only appeared at
meals, dropped their eyes and said nothing.

The first fury of the storm having abated, they sat down to supper, but
there was little conversation and a good deal of thoughtful abstraction.

The ladies retired early; the men, while they smoked, got up a game of
ecarte, which Monsieur Follenvie was invited to join, as they intended
pumping him skillfully as to the means that could be employed for
overcoming the officer's opposition to their departure. Unfortunately,
he would absorb himself wholly in his cards, and neither listened to
what they said nor gave any answer to their questions, but repeated
incessantly, "Play, gentlemen, play!" His attention was so deeply
engaged that he forgot to cough, with the result of eliciting organ
tones from his chest; his wheezing lungs running through the whole gamut
of asthma from notes of the profoundest bass to the shrill, hoarse crow
of the young cock.

He refused to go to bed when his wife, who was dropping with sleep, came
to fetch him. She therefore departed alone, for on her devolved the "day
duty," and she always rose with the sun, while her husband took the
"night day," and was always ready to sit up all night with friends. He
merely called out, "Mind you put my chicken broth in front of the fire!"
and returned to his cards. When they were convinced that there was
nothing to be got out of him, they declared that it was high time to go
to bed, and left him.

They were up again pretty early the next day, filled with an indefinite
hope, a still keener desire to be gone, and a horror of another day to
be got through in this odious tavern.

Alas! the horses were still in the stable and the coachman remained
invisible. For lack of something better to do, they sadly wandered round
the diligence.

Lunch was very depressing, and a certain chillines