"Man and wife an hour or two back, and now we're only betrothed, you see."
"M. Pascal!" she cried, laughing and blushing.
"By your leave, not Pascal, but Gerard—Gabrielle."
"I wonder what we ought to be doing when they come. I fear my heart is beating rather wildly."
"Fitting its beats to the occasion, that's all. As to what we should do, can't you find a suggestion out of your experience?"
"Cannot you?"
"I think we ought to be making love—Gabrielle. That's what Gerard would be doing, I expect."
"We're doing one thing that's right, at any rate. We're talking nonsense—Gerard."
"Well, I think we ought to play our parts thoroughly."
"Do you treat everything as a jest?"
"Not when I'm Gerard to your Gabrielle. It's a part I could play in real earnest."
"I think Gerard is an extremely ridiculous person."
"And I think Gabrielle a very charming—coquette."
"I wish they would come, and get it over. I'm a sad coward, and am getting more frightened every minute."
"Ah, you're anxious to break the engagement. You'll break your Gerard's heart." He was listening intently for the coming of the soldiers, and jested merely that he might distract her thoughts and keep up her spirits. "It will be awkward, by the way, if the officer in charge happens to be—another of them."
"You seem to think the list a long one," she retorted with a shrug.
"Let me see. To begin with"—and he made as if to tell them off on his fingers.
"Never mind, thank you. I can count for myself."
"Your eyes make me almost wish I could count myself," he laughed.
