He appreciated the gravity of the situation.

His bearing lost some of its dignity; his face underwent a change.

Then with a recovery of some part of his erstwhile resolution: "Nevertheless, he must be awakened," he announced, but in an undertone, as if afraid to do the thing he said must needs be done.
The horror in the secretary's eyes increased, but Anselme's reflected none of it.

It was a grave thing, he knew by former experience, to arouse His Majesty's Seneschal of Dauphiny from his after-dinner nap; but it was an almost graver thing to fail in obedience to that black-eyed woman below who was demanding an audience.
Anselme realized that he was between the sword and the wall.

He was, however, a man of a deliberate habit that was begotten of inherent indolence and nurtured among the good things that fell to his share as master of the Tressan household.