The chief went towards the place he had pointed out as Albert’s prison, and Franz and the count followed him.
“What is the prisoner doing?” inquired Vampa of the sentinel.
“Ma foi, captain,” replied the sentry, “I do not know; for the last hour I have not heard him stir.”
“Come in, your excellency,” said Vampa. The count and Franz ascended seven or eight steps after the chief, who drew back a bolt and opened a door. Then, by the gleam of a lamp, similar to that which lighted the columbarium, Albert was to be seen wrapped up in a cloak which one of the bandits had lent him, lying in a corner in profound slumber.
“Come,” said the count, smiling with his own peculiar smile, “not so bad for a man who is to be shot at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Vampa looked at Albert with a kind of admiration; he was not insensible to such a proof of courage.
“You are right, your excellency,” he said; “this must be one of your friends.”
Then going to Albert, he touched him on the shoulder, saying, “Will your excellency please to awaken?”
Albert stretched out his arms, rubbed his eyelids, and opened his eyes.
“Oh,” said he, “is it you, captain? You should have allowed me to sleep. I had such a delightful dream. I was dancing the galop at Torlonia’s with the Countess G——.” Then he drew his watch from his pocket, that he might see how time sped.