He muttered something to the sergeant, who again left him, and resumed the seat in which he had sat since he first entered the room.

Denot had risen two or three times during the night, and paced rapidly and uneasily about.
Whenever he had done so, Agatha had firmly grasped both her father's chair and the Chevalier's hand, as though she feared he was about to renew his attempts to drag her away, but he did not either touch her or speak to her.

He was probably aware that the sergeant, who sat there without once closing his eyes through the long hours, had orders to prevent him from doing so.
The Chevalier had no watch, and could not see how the hours were going, but it seemed to him as though it were broad day.

He thought it must be five, six, nay seven o'clock; and he could not understand why the lazy republicans remained so passive and so quiet, nor could he imagine why Chapeau was so long in coming.

The whole affair seemed to him so strange that he could hardly help fancying that he was dreaming.