"By my sword, I don't know," stammered my father. "If it were a breach of
orders ... and yet for a baby like thee ... thou'rt no more than a mouse
about the room, after all!"
"I have read of a poor prisoner who broke his heart because the gaoler
killed a spider he loved," said I, through my tears.
My father's features relaxed into a smile.
"But do you flatter yourself that Monsieur Maurice loves my little Maedchen
as much as that poor prisoner loved his spider?" he said, taking me by the
ear.
"Of course he does--and a hundred thousand times better!" I exclaimed, not
without a touch of indignation.
My father laughed outright.
"Thunder and Mars!" said he, "is the case so serious? Then Monsieur
Maurice, I suppose, must be allowed sometimes to see his little pet
spider."
He took me up himself next morning to the prisoner's room, and then for the
first time I found a sentry in occupation of the corridor. He grounded his
musket and saluted as we passed.
"I bring you a visitor, Monsieur Maurice," said my father.
He was leaning over the fire in a moody attitude when we went in, with his
arms on the chimney-piece, but turned at the first sound of my father's
voice.
"Colonel Bernhard," he said, with a look of glad surprise, "this is kind,
I--I had scarcely dared to hope".
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