"There is a _bureau_ not so far away. Only promise me you
will be prudent, for I must leave Perine here, though I will lock the
door. Remember, M. Plon has his own keys."
Nor would she relax one of her precautions in spite of his heated
impatience. But she had spoken truly, for after the daily fear of years,
the personal danger of encountering the robbers assuredly seemed nothing
in comparison with having to do with the police. She told Perine where
she was to sit, and tried to extract more coherent details, but only as
to the figures was Perine clear. These she repeated again and again,
while more than once Jean's sharp whisper reached his wife's ears. "Make
haste, make haste!" and she signed caution in return.
When she had gone there was for some time absolute silence in the
garret, Jean having flung himself on his bed, and given himself up to a
wild delirium of hope. By-and-by this took the form of restlessness. He
tossed and tumbled on his bed, and, his ear full of sounds which
expectation and imagination brought there, sometimes started up, keen to
listen, and the next moment pressed his fingers into his ears, to try to
shut out these delusive sounds. Then he became almost as reckless as to
Perine; what did her seeing him matter when so soon he would be a free
man? Once or twice the bed creaked and groaned under his tossings, so
that he imagined she would surely look round.
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