"As nothing was unimportant to her in her present situation, and she could not tell what slight tokens might put her on the right track, and forward the object for which she was encountering so much annoyance, she took her rushlight to examine it. It proved to be a small black leathern portmanteau, just sufficient to carry a change of linen, and the few articles for the toilet a gentleman might require in an expedition of a few days; it was locked, and on the top were the initials R. B. 'R. B.' thought she—'that may be Rodolphe something—for she did not know the second name of the persons under whose roof she was—'it is most likely his, as he is so fine a gentleman. Eh bien, I suppose I must go to bed—I wish they would have let me sit below all night—I did not feel half so wretched there in the chimney corner, with the bright faggots blazing; but there's something terrific in a bed when one's frightened; it looks like a grave. However, I won't undress; I'll just lie down in my clothes, so that if there's any alarm, I could be ready to show myself in a moment.'
"There was a rude wooden bolt to the door which she drew, though without much reliance on its efficiency—it was enough for honest people, but it would have made a feeble
