'My faith! and are not Gabrielle and I one? Do not I enter passionately into her projects? Do I not see clearly that if she succeeds, or even if she fails, her self-devotion, her enthusiasm, which are charming, will make her fortune and mine? Does she not repose her confidence in me? Does she not make an oratory of my bosom, and find a sanctuary in my heart?' 'My good wife and my good Gabrielle, understand now,' said the corporal, in his broken French. 'I took the casket back to the Sieur Réveillon. He is in the Bastille. He fears the people, so he has procured for himself a _lettre de cachet_ confining him within the walls of that fortress, which are quite strong enough to protect him from the mob. And he is comfortable there, being great friends with M. de Launay, the governor. Now that casket contained the jewels of Madame Réveillon.' 'Mon Dieu! you do not say so!' cried Madame Deschwanden, despairingly. 'The jewels! And they might have been mine.' 'They not only might, but would have brought you to the wheel, liebe Frau. Search was being made for them, as their value was very great. How should you like to be broken on the wheel for robbery?' 'But, if it were not for the pain, it would be interesting,' said madame. 'There is the pain, however, and that is terrible.' 'Yes; but the jewels--were they very beautiful?' 'I did not see them.' 'Oh, my faith! I wish I had looked at them. I have no doubt there were amethyst earrings. I had a pair once,--they were made of glass, you know, but they looked real, if you kept your head constantly on the move, and were very vivacious, so that no one should examine them closely. And they were stolen. The thief believed them to be real. They were stolen from me at a ball, and how it was done I never could guess. I never for a moment felt a hand near my face, or I would have slapped, and scratched, and kicked. Mon Dieu! I would have bitten.' 'And I am positive you would have scolded.' 'Scolded! believe me! I would have stabbed the man through and through with my sharp words, till he was little better than _veau piqué_. I would have amputated his head with my tongue. You do not know what I would have done!' 'I can guess.' 'Never! You do not know what I am capable of when I am roused. To you I am an angel of peace, to those who rouse me----' 'A cat.' 'Fie! And I your wife. Well,' she seated herself on the edge of his chair, and began to caress him. 'What have you got to tell us more?' 'The story would have been told long ago, if you had not interrupted me. The Sieur Réveillon was amazingly glad to recover his box. I told him that he was indebted to you.' Madame Deschwanden caught the old soldier's face between her hands and kissed it. 'What did you say of me?' she asked vehemently. 'He would think, from the name, that I was a great Dutch frau.'