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Another
attempt
,
and
another
;
till
by
degrees
the
wall
must
have
become
pimpled
with
the
adhering
lumps
of
snow
.
At
last
one
fragment
struck
the
fifth
window
.
The
river
would
have
been
seen
by
day
to
be
of
that
deep
smooth
sort
which
races
middle
and
sides
with
the
same
gliding
precision
,
any
irregularities
of
speed
being
immediately
corrected
by
a
small
whirlpool
.
Nothing
was
heard
in
reply
to
the
signal
but
the
gurgle
and
cluck
of
one
of
these
invisible
wheels
—
together
with
a
few
small
sounds
which
a
sad
man
would
have
called
moans
,
and
a
happy
man
laughter
—
caused
by
the
flapping
of
the
waters
against
trifling
objects
in
other
parts
of
the
stream
.
The
window
was
struck
again
in
the
same
manner
.
Then
a
noise
was
heard
,
apparently
produced
by
the
opening
of
the
window
.
This
was
followed
by
a
voice
from
the
same
quarter
.
"
Who
’
s
there
?
"
The
tones
were
masculine
,
and
not
those
of
surprise
.
The
high
wall
being
that
of
a
barrack
,
and
marriage
being
looked
upon
with
disfavour
in
the
army
,
assignations
and
communications
had
probably
been
made
across
the
river
before
to
-
night
.
"
Is
it
Sergeant
Troy
?
"
said
the
blurred
spot
in
the
snow
,
tremulously
.
This
person
was
so
much
like
a
mere
shade
upon
the
earth
,
and
the
other
speaker
so
much
a
part
of
the
building
,
that
one
would
have
said
the
wall
was
holding
a
conversation
with
the
snow
.
"
Yes
,
"
came
suspiciously
from
the
shadow
.
"
What
girl
are
you
?
"
"
Oh
,
Frank
—
don
’
t
you
know
me
?
"
said
the
spot
.
"
Your
wife
,
Fanny
Robin
.
"
