Hippolyte Fauville was sleeping with his face turned to the wall.
Perenna gave a smile of relief. He returned to the passage and, shaking Mazeroux:
"Your turn, Alexandre."
"No news, Chief?"
"No, none; he's asleep."
"How do you know?"
"I've had a look at him."
"That's funny; I never heard you. It's true, though, I've slept like a pig."
He followed Perenna into the study, and Perenna said:
"Sit down and don't wake him. I shall take forty winks."
He had one more turn at sentry duty. But, even while dozing, he remained conscious of all that happened around him. A clock struck the hours with a low chime; and each time Perenna counted the strokes. Then came the life outside awakening, the rattle of the milk-carts, the whistle of the early suburban trains.
People began to stir inside the house. The daylight trickled in through the crannies of the shutters, and the room gradually became filled with light.
"Let's go away," said Sergeant Mazeroux. "It would be better for him not to find us here."
"Hold your tongue!" said Don Luis, with an imperious gesture.
"Why?"
"You'll wake him up."
"But you can see I'm not waking him," said Mazeroux, without lowering his tone.
"That's true, that's true," whispered Don Luis, aston-
