“Quick! come, Spoil-sport, and defend us!” cried the two sisters at once, in an agony of alarm.

The boards of the wooden staircase really creaked beneath the weight of unusually heavy footsteps, and a singular kind of rustling was heard along the thin partition that divided the chamber from the landing-place.  Then a ponderous mass, falling against the door of the room, shook it violently; and the girls, at the very height of terror, looked at each other without the power of speech.

The door opened.  It was Dagobert.

At the sight of him Rose and Blanche joyfully exchanged a kiss, as if they had just escaped from a great danger.

“What is the matter? why are you afraid?” asked the soldier in surprise.

“Oh, if you only knew!” said Rose, panting as she spoke, for both her own heart and her sister’s beat with violence.

“If you knew what has just happened!  We did not recognize your footsteps—­they seemed so heavy—­and then that noise behind the partition!”

“Little frightened doves that you are!  I could not run up the stairs like a boy of fifteen, seeing that I carried my bed upon my back—­a straw mattress that I have just flung down before your door, to sleep there as usual.”

“Bless me! how foolish we must be, sister, not to have thought of that!” said Rose, looking at Blanche.  And their pretty faces, which had together grown pale, together resumed their natural color.

During this scene the dog, still resting against the window, did not cease barking a moment.

“What makes Spoil-sport bark in that direction, my children?” said the soldier.

“We do not know.  Two of our windowpanes have just been broken.  That is what first frightened us so much.”

Without answering a word Dagobert flew to the window, opened it quickly, pushed back the shutter, and leaned out.

He saw nothing; it was a dark night.  He listened; but heard only the moaning of the wind.

“Spoil-sport,” said he to his dog, pointing to the open window, “leap out, old fellow, and search!” The faithful animal took one mighty spring and disappeared by the window, raised only about eight feet above the ground.

Dagobert, still leaning over, encouraged his dog with voice and gesture:  “Search, old fellow, search!  If there is any one there, pin him—­your fangs are strong—­and hold him fast till I come.”

But Spoil-sport found no one.  They heard him go backwards and forwards, snuffing on every side, and now and then uttering a low cry like a hound at fault.

“There is no one, my good dog, that’s clear, or you would have had him by the throat ere this.”  Then, turning to the maidens, who listened to his words and watched his movements with uneasiness:  “My girls,” said he, “how were these panes broken?  Did you not remark?”

“No, Dagobert; we were talking together when we heard a great crash, and then the glass fell into the room.”