My companion in danger seemed entirely to have got rid of her chagrin at being delayed. She laughed, and conversed with the family with infinite gaiety. I strove but in vain to follow her example. My spirits were evidently forced, and the constraint which I put upon myself escaped not Baptiste’s observation.

“Come, come, Monsieur, cheer up!” said he; “You seem not quite recovered from your fatigue. To raise your spirits, what say you to a glass of excellent old wine which was left me by my father? God rest his soul, he is in a better world! I seldom produce this wine; but as I am not honoured with such guests every day, this is an occasion which deserves a bottle.”

He then gave his wife a key, and instructed her where to find the wine of which he spoke. She seemed by no means pleased with the commission; she took the key with an embarrassed air, and hesitated to quit the table.

“Did you hear me?” said Baptiste in an angry tone.

Marguerite darted upon him a look of mingled anger and fear, and left the chamber. His eyes followed her suspiciously, till she had closed the door.

She soon returned with a bottle sealed with yellow wax. She placed it upon the table, and gave the key back to her husband. I suspected that this liquor was not presented to us without design, and I watched Marguerite’s movements with inquietude. She was employed in rinsing some small horn goblets. As she placed them before Baptiste, she saw that my eye was fixed upon her; and at the moment when she thought herself unobserved by the banditti, she motioned to me with her head not to taste the liquor, she then resumed her place.