‘I am done, Gérard. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Her cheeks were aflame. She is Bohemian to the fingertips.
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