"Run away quickly! nobody can see us."
She did not need telling twice. As swiftly as her feet could carry her,
she ran off to the enemy's camp.
[Illustration: "SHE WAS GROWING IMPATIENT."]
I was a double-dyed traitor. After conniving at my captive's escape I
deserted.
"Can it indeed be true?" I pondered. "Have I only to drain that phial of
ink in order to become Georgette's husband some day? She said so, and
she must know!"
I went to look for the ink-bottle, which the child had carried
back into the schoolroom. There I stood contemplating the black,
uninviting-looking liquid.
Not for a single moment did I dream of swallowing the loathsome stuff in
the girl's presence. It did not occur to me that she ought to be a
witness of my sacrifice, or that she had demanded it as a proof of love.
My idea was rather that the beverage was a sort of love-philtre, such as
I had read of in my book of fairy tales. She had said: "Whoever will
drink the ink shall be my husband."
Faugh! the bottle was full to overflowing. How nasty it looked! Never
mind! So much the better! I should have liked it to have been nastier
still.