For a week and more after the thought occurred to him, he dared not approach the scholar's lodging, or be seen in the neighbourhood, so great was his fear of arousing Basterga's suspicions and setting him on his guard.
At the end of a fortnight or so, the choice of ways was presented to him in a concrete form; and with an abruptness which placed him on the edge of perplexity.

It was at a morning meeting of the smaller council.

The day was dull, the chamber warm, the business to be transacted monotonous; and Blondel, far from well and interested in one thing only--beside which the most important affairs of Geneva seemed small as the doings of an ant-hill viewed through a glass--had fallen asleep, or nearly asleep.

Naturally a restless and wakeful man, of thin habit and nervous temperament, he had never done such a thing before: and it was unfortunate that he succumbed on this occasion, for while he drowsed the current of business changed.

The debate grew serious, even vital.
Finally he awoke to the knowledge of place and time with a name ringing in his ears; a name so fixed in his waking thoughts that, before he knew where he was or what he was doing, he repeated it in a tone that drew all eyes upon him.
"Basterga!" Some knew he had slept and smiled; more had not noticed it, and turned, struck by the strange tone in which he echoed the name.