Night again; and Achille--poor faithful, charitable, patient Achille--to be there once more watching in the dark that one blank window, that he hoped to see open. I could analyse his feelings as well, perhaps, as he could mine; and how I did pity him for his many disappointments! For nights and nights had passed without the rope ladder having been made available. Still, though, we were hopeful, and thought of others who had been long and patient sufferers for the same cause; while now, in the hope of a meeting, we waited once more. All was still within doors, and everything seemed propitious, for the night was excessively dark. The last door had shut some time before, and within the house the only thing stirring must have been a mouse or else, with our strained ears, as Clara and I lay waiting, dressed in bed, we must have heard it. But though all was so still in the house, it was not so out of doors. First of all there was a horrible cat "tuning its lay," as Clara called it; and then she said its lay was terribly out of tune to want so much screwing up. Then the dog in the next yard must hear it, and begin to resent the disturbance, and bark at the cat, till I felt sure that pauvre Achille would not come, for the noise was dreadful--rest cat, bark dog; rest dog, howl cat, and so on. There was the chain rattling in and out of the kennel at a most terrible rate, while the creature barked furiously till it was tired, without having the slightest effect upon the cat, or cats, which kept on with the hideous howling, till the dog, evidently worn out, went to sleep. Oh, it was uncomfortable lying there, so hot and tired with the exertion of dressing under the bed-clothes while lying down, so that Patty Smith should have no suspicion of what was going on and because we thought her awake; when, just as we had finished, she must begin to snore in the most vulgar, horrible way imaginable. "That nasty cat is just under our window," I whispered to Clara. "He'll never come if there's this noise." "I'll serve it out," whispered Clara; "only be quiet." "What are you going to do?" I said, but she would not answer; and I heard her get out of bed and go to the washstand, and pour ever so much water into the basin. "Oh, pray don't make any noise, dear. What are you going to do with that water?" "Wait a bit, and you'll see," she whispered, tittering; and then she went and gently opened the window, when the noise of the nasty cat came up worse than ever. "You had better not throw out that water, dear," I whispered; but she only giggled, and then I heard the water go down splash on to the gravel walk, and directly after--