The latter also was beginning to experience the effect of the soldier’s care.  The exclamation of Rose completely roused her from her lethargy, and she clung to her sister, again sharing the fright without knowing its cause.

“They’ve come to—­that’s the chief point,” said Dagobert, “now we shall soon get rid of these foolish fears.”  Then softening his voice, he added:  “Well, my children, courage?  You are better.  It is I who am here—­me, Dagobert!”

The orphans made a hasty movement, and, turning towards the soldier their sweet faces, which were still full of dismay and agitation, they both, by a graceful impulse, extended their arms to him and cried:  “It is you, Dagobert—­then we are safe!”

“Yes, my children, it is I,” said the veteran, taking their hands in his, and pressing them joyfully.  “So you have been much frightened during my absence?”

“Oh, frightened to death!”

“If you knew—­oh, goodness! if you knew—­”

“But the lamp is extinguished—­why is that?”

“We did not do it.”

“Come—­recover yourselves, poor children, and tell me all about it.  I have no good opinion of this inn; but, luckily, we shall soon leave it.  It was an ill wind that blew me hither—­though, to be sure, there was no other in the village.  But what has happened?”

“You were hardly gone, when the window flew open violently, and the lamp and table fell together with a loud crash.”

“Then our courage failed—­we screamed and clasped each other, for we thought we could hear some one moving in the room.”

“And we were so frightened, that we fainted away.”

Unfortunately, persuaded that it was the violence of the wind which had already broken the glass, and shaken the window, Dagobert attributed this second accident to the same cause as the first, thinking that he had not properly secured the fastening and that the orphans had been deceived by a false alarm.  “Well, well—­it is over now,” said he to them:  “Calm yourselves, and don’t think of it any more.”

“But why did you leave us so hastily, Dagobert?”

“Yes, now I remember—­did we not hear a great noise, sister, and see Dagobert run to the staircase, crying:  ’My horse! what are they doing to my horse?’”

“It was then Jovial who neighed?”

These questions renewed the anguish of the soldier; he feared to answer them, and said, with a confused air:  “Yes—­Jovial neighed—­but it was nothing.  By the by, we must have a light here.  Do you know where I put my flint and steel last evening?  Well, I have lost my senses; it is here in my pocket.  Luckily, too, we have a candle, which I am going to light; I want to look in my knapsack for some papers I require.”