“Be calm,” he said, “and try to sleep.  Tomorrow, when it is light, we will see what can be done.”

As he withdrew he prudently locked her in.  It was his opinion that women were good for nothing and that they spoiled everything when they took a hand in a serious affair.  But Francoise did not retire.  She sat for a long while upon the side of her bed, listening to the noises of the house.  The German soldiers encamped in the courtyard sang and laughed; they must have been eating and drinking until eleven o’clock, for the racket did not cease an instant.  In the mill itself heavy footsteps resounded from time to time, without doubt those of the sentinels who were being relieved.  But she was interested most by the sounds she could distinguish in the apartment beneath her chamber.  Many times she stretched herself out at full length and put her ear to the floor.  That apartment was the one in which Dominique was confined.  He must have been walking back and forth from the window to the wall, for she long heard the regular cadence of his steps.  Then deep silence ensued; he had doubtless seated himself.  Finally every noise ceased and all was as if asleep.  When slumber appeared to her to have settled on the house she opened her window as gently as possible and leaned her elbows on the sill.

Without, the night had a warm serenity.  The slender crescent of the moon, which was sinking behind the forest of Sauval, lit up the country with the glimmer of a night lamp.  The lengthened shadows of the tall trees barred the meadows with black, while the grass in uncovered spots assumed the softness of greenish velvet.  But Francoise did not pause to admire the mysterious charms of the night.  She examined the country, searching for the sentinels whom the Germans had posted obliquely.  She clearly saw their shadows extending like the rounds of a ladder along the Morelle.  Only one was before the mill, on the other shore of the river, beside a willow, the branches of which dipped in the water.  Francoise saw him plainly.  He was a tall man and was standing motionless, his face turned toward the sky with the dreamy air of a shepherd.

When she had carefully inspected the locality she again seated herself on her bed.  She remained there an hour, deeply absorbed.  Then she listened once more:  there was not a sound in the mill.  She returned to the window and glanced out, but doubtless one of the horns of the moon, which was still visible behind the trees, made her uneasy, for she resumed her waiting attitude.  At last she thought the proper time had come.  The night was as black as jet; she could no longer see the sentinel opposite; the country spread out like a pool of ink.  She strained her ear for an instant and made her decision.  Passing near the window was an iron ladder, the bars fastened to the wall, which mounted from the wheel to the garret and formerly enabled the millers to reach certain machinery; afterward the mechanism had been altered, and for a long while the ladder had been hidden under the thick ivy which covered that side of the mill.