I was lying wrapped up in some old tapestry, meditating very seriously upon my present precarious situation, when I observed a figure moving amidst the mass of sleepers. The company around was of such a nature, that unpleasant suspicions naturally occurred to my mind, and I continued to watch the apparition until the moonlight shone upon it, when I recognised Bagsby. This poor fellow was a sad incubus upon my motions; for although I had no earthly tie towards him, I could not help feeling that in some measure I had been instrumental in placing him in his present dilemma, and I had resolved not to escape without making him the partner of my flight. I was very curious to know the object of his present movements, for the stealthy manner in which he glided through the hall betokened some unusual purpose. I was not long left in doubt. From behind a large screen he drew forth a coil of cord, formerly attached to the curtain, but latterly indicated by Destripes as the implement for Potard’s apotheosis; and approaching a window, he proceeded to attach one end of it very deliberately to a staple. He then gave a cautious glance around, as if to be certain that no one was watching him, and began to undo the fastenings of the window. A new gleam of hope dawned upon me. I was about to rise and move to his assistance, when another figure glided rapidly through the moonshine. In an instant Bagsby was clutched by the throat, and a low voice hissed out— “_Ah traître! monstre! polisson! vous voulez donc fuir? Vous osez mépriser mon amour!_” It was the poissarde. Nothing on earth is so wakeful as a jealous woman. She had suspected the designs of the wretched Minister of Marine, and counterfeited sleep only to detect him in the act of escaping. Not a moment was to be lost. I knew that if this woman gave the alarm, Bagsby would inevitably be hanged with his own rope, and I stole towards the couple, in order to effect, if possible, a reconciliation. “Ah, citizen, is it thou?” said the poissarde more loudly than was at all convenient. “Here is thy fellow trying to play me a pretty trick! Perfidious monster! was this what thou meant by all thy professions of love?” “For heaven’s sake, take the woman off, or she will strangle me!” muttered Bagsby. “Pray, hush! my dear madam, hush!” said I, “or you may wake some of our friends.” “What care I,” said the poissarde; “let them wake, and I will denounce the villain who has dared to trifle with my affections!” “Nay, but consider the consequences!” said I. “Do, pray, be silent for one moment. Bagsby, this is a bad business!” “You need not tell me that,” groaned Bagsby. “Your life depends upon this woman, and you must appease her somehow.” “I’ll agree to any thing,” said the terrified Minister of Marine. “Yes! I will be avenged!” cried the poissarde; “I will have his heart’s blood, since he has dared to deceive me. How! is this the way they treat a daughter of the people?”