Darkness and quiet had fallen on the castle, and the
gray moon film lay on terrace and turret and tile.
In the guardroom, Maurice, his hands and feet still in pressing
cords, dozed in his chair. He had ceased to combat drowsiness.
He was worn out with his long ride, together with the chase of
the night before; and since a trooper had relieved his mouth of
the scarf so that he could breathe, he cared not what the future
held, if only he might sleep. It took him a long time to arrive
at the angle of comfort; this accomplished, he drifted into
smooth waters. The troopers who constituted his guard played
cards at a long table, in the center of which were stuck half a
dozen bayonets, which served as candlesticks. They laughed
loudly, thumped the board, and sometimes sang. No one bothered
himself about the prisoner, who might have slept till the crack
of doom, as far as they were concerned.
Shortly before the new hour struck, the door opened and shut. A
trooper shook the sleeper by the sleeve. Maurice awoke with a
start and gazed about, blinking his eyes. Before him he
discovered Madame the duchess, Fitzgerald and Mollendorf, behind
whom stood the Voiture-verse of a countess.
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