The night passed quietly at the chateau, without other incident than the
fright of poor Isabelle, when Beelzebub, who had climbed up on the bed,
as was his frequent custom, established himself comfortably upon
her bosom; finding it a deliciously soft, warm resting-place, and
obstinately resisting her frantic efforts to drive him away.
As to de Sigognac, he did not once close his eyes. A vague project was
gradually shaping itself in his mind, keeping him wakeful and perplexed.
The advent of these strolling comedians appeared to him like a stroke of
fate, an ambassador of fortune, to invite him to go out into the great
world, away from this old feudal ruin, where his youth was passing in
misery and inaction--to quit this dreary shade, and emerge into the
light and life of the outer world.
At last the gray light of the dawn came creeping in through the lattice
windows, speedily followed by the first bright rays from the rising sun.
The storm was over, and the glorious god of day rose triumphant in a
perfectly clear sky. It was a strange group that he peeped in upon,
where the old family portraits seemed looking down with haughty contempt
upon the slumbering invaders of their dignified solitude. The soubrette
was the first to awake, starting up as a warm sunbeam shone caressingly
full upon her face.
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