THE STORY-TELLER.
The new prisoner of whom we have spoken, and who was dressed in a gray
blouse, with a cotton cap on his head, had attentively listened to and
energetically applauded the scheme for punishing the reserve of Germain,
even at the expense of his life. This individual, whose form betokened
strength and power of no ordinary description, quitted the day-room with
the rest of the prisoners without being noticed, and soon mingled with
the different groups assembled in the courtyard to receive their
rations, crowding around the persons employed in the distribution like
so many hungry cormorants.
Each prisoner received a piece of the meat employed in making the day's
soup, with about half a loaf of tolerably good bread. Such of the
_detenus_ as possessed the means were allowed to purchase drink at the
wineshop belonging to the prison, and even to go thither to regale
themselves with their lush; while persons who, like Nicholas, had
received provisions from their friends, generally made a sort of feast,
to which they invited their most intimate acquaintances. The guests
selected by the son of the executed felon upon the present occasion were
the Skeleton, Barbillon, and, at the suggestion of the latter,
Pique-Vinaigre, in order that good eating and drinking might quicken his
talent for "storytelling."
The ham, hard boiled eggs, cheese, and delicate white bread, wrung from
the forced generosity of Micou the receiver, were arranged most
temptingly on a bench in the day-room, and the Skeleton prepared himself
to do ample justice to the repast, without in the slightest degree
disturbing his appetite by the thoughts of the cold-blooded murder that
was to follow it.
"Just go and see whether Pique-Vinaigre is coming, will you, my fine
fellow?" cried he, addressing an individual who stood near him. "I tell
you what it is, while I'm waiting to choke that stuck-up young fool they
call Germain, I'm blowed if hunger and thirst won't choke me, if I have
to dawdle about much longer. And here; don't forget to work old Frank up
to do for the bum-bailiff, so that we may kill two birds with one stone,
as the saying is."
"Don't you be afraid, old Dead-Alive! If Frank don't make a stiff'un of
the bailey, it won't be our fault, that you may take your oath of!" And,
while uttering these words, Nicholas went forth from the day-room.
At this moment Maitre Boulard entered the yard, smoking a cigar, his
hands buried in the pockets of his gray duffle dressing-gown, his peaked
cap pulled down well over his ears, and a look of chuckling satisfaction
upon his fat, full-blown countenance. He quickly espied Nicholas, who
was busily occupied gazing around in search of Frank. That person was at
that precise period of time busily occupied, in company with his friend
Gros-Boiteux, in eating his dinner, and, from the position in which they
sat on one of the benches, they perceived not the presence of the
bailiff. Acting in implicit obedience to the directions given him by the
Skeleton, directly Nicholas, from the corner of his eye, descried the
approach of Maitre Boulard, he feigned entire ignorance of his vicinity,
but made for the place where Frank and his companions were seated.
"How are you, my ticket?" inquired the bailiff of Nicholas.
"Bless me!" answered he; "I declare I didn't see you. I suppose you're
like me, come out to take a sniff of fresh air and have your daily
walk?"
"Why, that's about it. But I happen to have more reasons than one
to-day; and I tell you how it is. But, first of all, catch hold of one
of these cigars; they're deuced good ones. Come, don't be so missy and
shy about it; take as many as you like. Hang it all, when men are shut
up together in a place like this, they oughtn't to be stingy."
"You are very good, and so are your cigars. But you were saying you had
several reasons for walking out to-day?"
"Well, and so I have. First and foremost, I don't feel as hungry as
usual; so, thinks I, I'll go and look on while those chaps eat their
dinner. Who knows but the sight of their jaws all working away together
may screw me up a bit, and give me a relish against feeding-time?"
"A famous idea!" said Nicholas. "But if you really do want to see a
couple of feeders, just draw this way. There!" added he, pointing to the
bench on which Frank was sitting; "what do you think of a pair of
grubbers like those? I should say we were better behind than before
them, or they might even swallow us instead of those huge lumps of bread
and cheese and onions so rapidly stowed away in their capacious jaws."
"Let's have a look at them!" said Maitre Boulard.
"Well, to be sure!" cried Nicholas, with feigned surprise; "I declare
one of them is Gros-Boiteux!"
Gros-Boiteux and Frank both turned around at these words. Stupefied and
speechless, the bailiff continued to gaze in utter amazement at the man
he had so wronged, while, starting up with a sudden spring, Frank threw
down the morsel he had been eating, and darting on Maitre Boulard, he
seized him by the throat, exclaiming, "My money--my money; give me my
money!"
"Hallo! Who are you? What do you mean? Hands off, or you'll strangle me!
I--"
"My money, I say!"
"My good man, only calm yourself and listen to reason!"
"No, not till you give me back my money. What, aren't you satisfied with
having brought me here? Can you not restore me what you stole from me?"
"But I--I--I--never--"
"I tell you again, if I get sent to the galleys 'tis all along of you;
for had you not taken my little all from me, I should not have been
driven to the necessity of robbing others; I might have lived and died
an honest man. You may be acquitted, you may escape the punishment you
deserve, but, at least, you shall carry my marks away with you. Ha, ha!
You can come it grand, and swagger about here dressed up with your gold
chains and trinkets, bought, no doubt, with the money of other poor
devils who have been cheated by you as I have been. Take that for your
pains--and that--that--and that! Now, have you had enough? No! Then
here's for you again!"
"Help, help!" screamed the bailiff, as he rolled on the ground at
Frank's feet, while his infuriated antagonist continued to belabour him
with all his force.
The rest of the prisoners took little or no interest in this affray, but
contented themselves with forming a circle around the two combatants, or
rather the assailant and the assailed; for Maitre Boulard, frightened
and out of breath, made not the slightest resistance, but contented
himself with warding off his adversary's blows as well as he could.
Fortunately, the repeated cries of the poor maltreated bailiff reached
the ears of one of the superintending officers, by whose intervention he
was rescued from the rough hands of Frank. Pale, terrified, and almost
speechless with terror, Maitre Boulard arose. One eye was wholly closed
by the severe beating he had received, and without giving himself time
to pick up his cap, he wildly cried, as he rushed towards the officer:
"Open the door! Let me out--let me out! I can't and I won't stay here
another minute. Help, here! Help, help!"
"As for you," exclaimed the officer, grasping Frank by the collar, "do
you come along with me before the governor. I know you'll catch it, too,
for fighting; two days in the black-hole is the very least you'll get, I
promise you."
"I've paid him off, at any rate," returned Frank; "and I don't care for
the rest."
"I say," whispered Gros-Boiteux, while affecting to be merely helping to
arrange his dress, "I say, you won't breathe a word of what's going to
happen to the sneak, of course?"
"Oh, don't be afraid; 'tis just likely, had I been by, I might have
stood up in his defence, because to kill a man in that manner
is--hard--at least--and for such a trifle! But as for telling of it, or
betraying you all--oh, no!"
"Now, then," called out the officer, "I say, are you coming or are you
not?"
"That's all right!" said Nicholas. "We've got well rid of Frank and the
bailiff, now let's go to work without further loss of time upon the
sneak!"
As Frank was being led from the prison yard, Germain and Pique-Vinaigre
entered it. It was scarcely possible to recognise Germain, for his
hitherto melancholy and dejected countenance was radiant with joy and
exulting happiness. He walked proudly erect, casting around him a look
of certain and assured content; he knew himself to be beloved, and with
that consciousness all the horrors of his prison seemed to disappear.
Pique-Vinaigre followed him with a timid, confused air, and, after much
hesitation, at length plucked up sufficient courage to venture to
address Germain, whose arm he gently touched, ere the intended victim
had reached the group of prisoners, who, from a distance, were examining
him with looks of deadly hatred. Spite of himself, Germain shuddered at
thus being brought into contact with a person of Pique-Vinaigre's
appearance, whose wretched person and ragged attire were ill-calculated
to impress any one with a favourable opinion of him; but recollecting
the earnest advice of Rigolette, and feeling altogether too happy
himself to act with any want of benevolence, Germain stopped, and said
to Pique-Vinaigre, in a gentle tone of voice:
"What do you want with me, my friend?"
"I want to thank you."
"For what?"
"For the kindness shown to my sister by the pretty young woman who
visited you to-day."
"I really do not understand you," said Germain, much surprised.
"Well, then, I'll try and make you. Just now, when I was in the lodge of
the prison, I saw the man who was on duty in the visitors' room a little
while ago."
"Ah, yes, a very good-hearted sort of man, too. I recollect him well."
"It is not often you can apply that term to the gaolers of a prison, but
the man I mean (Rousel is his name) is really deserving of being styled
a kind, good-hearted man. So, all of a sudden, he whispers in my ear, 'I
say, Pique-Vinaigre, my lad,' he says, 'do you know M. Germain?' 'Yes,'
says I, 'I do,' says I; 'he's the _bete noire_ of the prison yard.'"
Then suddenly interrupting himself, Pique-Vinaigre said to Germain, "I
beg your pardon for calling you a _bete noire_. Don't, think anything of
that, but listen to the end of my story."
"Oh, I'm listening; go on."
"'Yes,' says I, 'I know who you mean very well,' says I. 'You mean M.
Germain, the _bete noire_ of the prison yard.' 'And of you, too, I
suppose?' said the officer, in a severe and serious manner. 'Oh, bless
you,' says I, 'I am too good-natured, as well as too much of a coward,
to venture to call any one disagreeable; and less M. Germain than any
one else,' says I, 'for I don't see any harm in him, and other folks
appear to me very cruel and unjust towards him.' 'That's all right,
then,' answers the officer; 'and I can tell you that you are bound to
side with M. Germain, for he has been very kind to you,' he says. 'To
me?' says I; 'how do you mean?' 'Well,' he answers, 'I don't mean M.
Germain exactly, and it ain't to you altogether he's been kind; but
still, for all that,' says Rousel, 'you are bound to show him your
gratitude.'"
"Try," said Germain, smilingly, "and make me understand what it is you
do mean."
"That's precisely what I said to the officer. 'Speak more clearly,' I
says. So then he makes answer, 'Why, it was not M. Germain, but the very
pretty young person that was here just now to see him, who loaded your
sister with all sorts of kindnesses. She overheard the poor thing
telling you all her troubles; and directly as the creature went out, the
charming young woman as come visiting to M. Germain went and offered to
serve her in every way she could.'"
"Dear, good Rigolette!" murmured Germain, deeply affected by this little
incident; "she said not one word to me of all this."
"'Well, to be sure!' I says to the officer; 'what a poor stupid goose I
am!' 'You are quite right--you are!' M. Germain--leastways, his
friend--has been good to me,--that is to say to my sister Jeanne, which
is the same thing, only much more than if the favour had been done to
myself."
"Poor, dear Rigolette!" said Germain; "ever the same tender,
compassionate, generous-hearted creature!"
"So then the officer goes on to say how he heard all that passed between
your nice young woman and my poor sister Jeanne. 'And now,' he says,
'Pique-Vinaigre, that you are aware of the fact, if you don't try to
show kindness by every means in your power to M. Germain, and more
especially, if you should know of any plot got up against him and not
warn him of it, why,' he says, 'Pique-Vinaigre, you would be a regular
scamp and a blackguard.' 'I tell you what,' I makes answer and says,
'I'm an unfinished scamp as yet, but I'm no blackguard, and, what's
more, I never will be worse than I am, for the sake of my poor dear
Jeanne and her children; and so because M. Germain's friend has taken
notice of my Jeanne, who is one of the best and worthiest creatures that
ever lived,--I may venture to boast of my sister, though I am ashamed of
myself, but for that reason I will do all in my power to save or serve
M. Germain; unfortunately, I can do but little, after all!' 'Never mind!
Do your best; that is all I ask of you. But I will give you the pleasure
of being the pleasing bearer of news to M. Germain, which, indeed, I
have only just learned myself.'"
"What is it?" inquired Germain.
"That to-morrow morning there will be a vacant chamber you can have for
paying for, then you will be all to yourself. The officer desired me to
tell you so."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Germain; "how truly glad I am to hear it! That
worthy man was right in saying you would be the bearer of pleasant
news."
"Well, I do think so myself; for it is quite easy to perceive that you
do not feel comfortable among such poor wretches as we are." Then
suddenly breaking off, Pique-Vinaigre hastily added, in a low whisper,
while feigning to stoop, as though searching for something he had
dropped, "Hark ye, M. Germain, the prisoners are all looking at us,
wondering what we are talking about. I must go. But be on your guard;
and if any one tries to quarrel with you, don't make any answer; they
want a pretext for all attacking you at once. Barbillon is the one
chosen to provoke you, so take especial care of him. I will try and turn
the attention of the others from being directed towards you in a
spiteful manner." And, with these words, Pique-Vinaigre rose up from his
stooping position, with the air of one who had found the object of his
search.
"Thanks, my good fellow!" said Germain, eagerly, as he separated from
his companion; "rely on my prudence!"
Only that morning aware of the plot against Germain, which, as far as he
knew, consisted merely in an intention of involving him in some affray
which should compel the governor of the prison to remove him to some
other yard in the building, Pique-Vinaigre was not only ignorant of the
murderous designs so recently projected by the Skeleton, but equally so
that the conspirators intended to avail themselves of his recital of
"Gringalet and Cut-in-Half" to deceive the vigilance of the officer on
duty, as well as to beguile his attention from what was going on.
"Come on, old Make-believe!" said Nicholas to Pique-Vinaigre, as he
advanced to meet him. "Throw away that lump of dog's-meat you have got
in your hand; we have got a regular feast among us, and you are invited
to it!"
"A feast? La, how nice! What, out of the Panier Fleuri, or the Petit
Ramponneau?--tell us which it is! But they are both such nice places,
there isn't a pin to choose."
"Oh, you fool! Our feast is prepared in the day-room; all laid out so
temptingly on a bench. There you'll see ham and eggs, and cheese,
and--It's my treat, mind!"
"Well, I'm one of the right sort to walk into it. But it seems a pity to
throw away this good ration I have just received! I only wish my poor
sister and her children could have the benefit of it. Ah, poor things!
It's not often they see meat, unless, indeed, when they find a few
scraps thrown out before the butcher's door."
"Oh, bother about your sister and her brats! Let's go in, or Barbillon
and the Skeleton will leave nothing but empty trenchers for us!"
Nicholas and Pique-Vinaigre entered together into the day-room, where
they found the Skeleton sitting astride on the bench on which the
savoury viands were displayed, swearing and grumbling at the absence of
the founder of the feast.
"Oh, there you are, you creeping animal!" exclaimed the ruffian, as he
caught sight of the story-teller. "What the deuce hindered you from
bringing your blessed carcass here a little sooner?"
"He was spinning a yarn with Germain when I found him," answered
Nicholas, helping himself to a large slice of the ham.
"Ho, ho!" cried the Skeleton, gazing earnestly on Pique-Vinaigre,
without, however, diminishing the ardour with which he devoured the
provisions; "so you were gossiping with Germain, were you?"
"Yes, I was," returned Pique-Vinaigre. "But what a fool that Germain is!
I used to think that he was a sort of spy in the yard; but, Lord love
you, he is too much of a simpleton for that!"
"Oh, you think so, do you?" said the Skeleton, exchanging a rapid and
significant glance with Nicholas and Barbillon.
"I'm as sure of it as I am that I see a capital ham before me. Besides,
how the devil can he be a spy when he is always by himself? He speaks to
no one, and nobody ever changes a word with him; and you all know that
he runs from us as if we carried the plague in our pockets. Now, how a
man can tell many tales who acts as he does, is more than I can
conceive. However, spy or not, he will not be able to do us much more
harm, as to-morrow he will obtain a room for himself."
"The deuce he will!" replied the Skeleton. Then taking advantage of a
conversation which had commenced between Barbillon and Pique-Vinaigre,
he leaned towards Nicholas, and said, whisperingly, "You see, we have
not an instant to lose. After four o'clock to-day all chance of serving
him out is over; it is now nearly three. You see, unfortunately, he does
not sleep in my dormitory, or I would settle him in the night; and
to-morrow he will be out of our reach."
"Well, I don't care!" answered Nicholas, as though replying to some
observation of his companions; "I say--and I'll stick to it--Germain
always seems to look down upon us as though we were not as good as he."
"No, no!" interposed Pique-Vinaigre; "you are quite wrong as regards
this young man--you are, indeed. You frighten him--you do; and I know
that he considers himself not fit to hold a candle to you. Why, if you
only knew what he was saying to me just now--"
"Let's hear what it was!"
"'Why,' says he, 'you are a lucky fellow, Pique-Vinaigre, you are,' he
says, 'to take the liberty of speaking to the celebrated Skeleton (that
was the very word he used), just for all the world as if you were his
equal! But whenever I meet him,' he says, 'I feel myself overcome with
so much awe and respect that, though I would give my eyes out of my head
to know him and converse with him, I no more dare do it than I should
make bold to accost the _prefet de police_ if he were in his chair of
office, and me beholding him body and bones.'"
"He said that, did he?" returned the Skeleton, feigning to believe the
well-meant fiction of Pique-Vinaigre, as well as to feel gratified by
the deep admiration he was reported to have excited in the breast of
Germain.
"As true as that you are the cleverest ruffian upon earth, he said those
very words; and, more than that, he--"
"Oh, then, if that is the case," said the Skeleton, "I shall make it up
with him. Barbillon wanted to pick a quarrel with him, but I shall
advise him to be quiet."
"That's right!" exclaimed Pique-Vinaigre, fully persuaded that he had
effectually diverted from Germain the danger that threatened him; "that
would be much the best way! For this poor chicken-hearted fellow would
never quarrel,--simply because, like me, he has not pluck enough to
fight; therefore it is no use getting into a dispute."
"Still," cried the Skeleton, "I am sorry, too, that we shall not have
our fun; we had quite reckoned upon getting up a fight with Germain to
amuse us after dinner. I don't know now what we shall do to kill the
time."
"Ah, to be sure!" chimed in Nicholas. "What the deuce shall we do with
ourselves? Can anybody tell me?"
"Well, then, I'll settle it!" said Barbillon. "Since you seem to
recommend my leaving Germain alone, I'll agree to do so, on condition
that Pique-Vinaigre tells us one of his best stories."
"Done!" exclaimed the story-teller. "But I must make one condition as
well as you, and, without both are agreed to, I don't open my lips."
"Well, then, say what your other condition is. I dare say it is not more
difficult than the former, and we soon agreed about that."
"It is that this honourable company, which is overstocked with riches,"
said the Pique-Vinaigre, resuming his old tone when addressing his
audiences preparatory to commencing his juggling tricks, "will have the
trifling kindness to club together and present me with the small sum of
twenty sous,--a mere trifle, gents, when you are about to listen to the
celebrated Pique-Vinaigre, who has had the honour of appearing before
the most celebrated prigs of the day--he who is now expected at Brest or
Toulon, by the special command of his majesty's government."
"Well, then, we'll stand the twenty sous after you have finished your
story."
"After?--no--before!" said Pique-Vinaigre.
"What! Do you suppose us capable of doing you out of twenty sous?" asked
the Skeleton, with an air of disdain.
"By no means!" replied Pique-Vinaigre. "I honour the stone jug with my
confidence, and it is in order to economise its purse that I ask for
twenty sous in advance."
"On your word and honour?"
"Yes, gentlemen; for, after my story, you will be so satisfied, that it
is not twenty sous but twenty francs--a hundred francs--you will force
me to take! I know that I should be shabby enough to accept them; and
thus, you see, it is from consideration, and you will do wisely to give
me twenty sous in advance."
"You don't want for the gift of the gab!"
"I have nothing but my tongue, and I must make use of that. And
then,--if it must be told,--my sister and her children are in terrible
distress, and, in a small house, even twenty sous is a consideration."
"Then why doesn't your sister prig, and her kids, too, if they're old
enough?" asked Nicholas.
"Don't ask me; it distresses--dishonours me! I am too kind--"
"What do you mean, you fool? Why, you encourage her!"
"True; I encourage her in the vice of being honest, and that is the only
line in which she shines. But come, it is agreed that I shall tell you
my famous story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' But you must hand out
twenty sous, and Barbillon shall not pick a quarrel with this simpleton
of a Germain!"
"Well, you shall have twenty sous, and Barbillon shall not pick a
quarrel with that simpleton of a Germain," said the Skeleton.
"Then open your ears, and you will hear what you will hear! But it is
raining, which will make the customers tumble in, and there will be no
occasion to go out and seek them."
And the rain began to fall, and the prisoners, quitting the yard, took
refuge in the day-room, the turnkey being still in attendance.
We have said that this room was large and long, with a pavement, and
lighted by three windows, which looked out into the yard. In the centre
was the stove, near which were the Skeleton, Barbillon, Nicholas, and
Pique-Vinaigre. At a signal from the _prevot_, the Gros-Boiteux joined
this group. Germain was one of the last to enter, absorbed in most
delightful thoughts, and he went mechanically to seat himself on the
ledge at the lowest window in the apartment, a place he usually
occupied, and which no one disputed with him, for it was at a distance
from the stove around which the prisoners were assembled.
We have already said that some fifteen of the prisoners had been
informed in the first instance of the treachery attributed to Germain,
and the murder which was to avenge it. But, soon whispered to one
another, the plan comprised as many adherents as there were prisoners;
these ruffians, in their blind cruelty, considering this fearful plot as
legitimate revenge, and viewing therein a certain guarantee against the
future disclosure of spies. Germain, Pique-Vinaigre, and the turnkey
were alone ignorant of what was about to take place. General attention
was divided between the executioner, the victim, and the story-teller,
who was about innocently to deprive Germain of the only succour he could
hope for; for it is nearly sure that the turnkey, when he saw the
prisoners attentive to the story of Pique-Vinaigre, would think his
surveillance useless, and take advantage of that moment of tranquillity
to go and take his meal. And when the prisoners had entered, the
Skeleton said to the turnkey:
"Old fellow, Pique-Vinaigre has a capital idea; he is going to tell us
his story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' It is weather in which one
would not put a policeman out-of-doors, and we shall quietly wait in
till it is time to go to roost."
"Why, you are always pretty quiet when he begins his talk, and have no
need for me to be at your heels."
"Yes," said the Skeleton; "but Pique-Vinaigre asks a high price,--he
wants twenty sous for his story."
"Yes, the trifle of twenty sous,--a mere nothing!" cried Pique-Vinaigre.
"Yes, gents, nothing; for who that had a liard would not bestow it to
hear the adventures of poor little Gringalet, Cut-in-Half, and the
wicked Gargousse? It will rend your hearts, and make your hair stand on
end! And, gents, who is there that would not dispose of the paltry sum
of four liards--or, if you prefer counting my mites, of five
centimes--to have their hearts rent and their hair standing on end?"
"There are two sous," said the Skeleton, throwing down the piece of
money before Pique-Vinaigre. "Come, is the stone-jug too niggardly to
enjoy this pastime?" he added, looking at his accomplices with a
significant air.
Several sous fell around him, to the great joy of Pique-Vinaigre, who
thought of his sister as he collected the money.
"Eight--nine--ten--eleven--twelve--thirteen!" he said, as he picked up
the money. "Now, my rich friends, my capitalists, and others of the
cash interest, try once more. You cannot stop at thirteen, for it is an
unlucky number! Only seven sous deficient, the trifle of seven sous!
What, gents, shall it be said that the Fosse aux Lions could not produce
seven sous--seven miserable sous? Oh, gents, gents, you would make me
believe that you have been brought here very unjustly or that you have
all had a sad run of ill luck."
The shrill voice and broad jests of Pique-Vinaigre had brought Germain
from his reverie, and, as much to follow Rigolette's advice and make
himself popular with the prisoners as to give a trifle to the poor devil
who had testified some desire to be of service to him, he rose and threw
a piece of ten sous at the tale-teller's feet, who exclaimed, as he
pointed at his generous benefactor:
"Ten sous, gents! You see, I was speaking of capitalists! Honour to that
gentleman! He behaves like one of the monied interest, as an ambassador
to be agreeable to the company! Yes, gents; for it is to him that you
will owe the greater portion of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half,' and you
will thank him for it. As to the three sous over, why, I shall earn them
by imitating the voices of the personages, instead of speaking like you
and me. That will be another obligation you will owe to this wealthy
capitalist, whom you ought to adore."
"Come, no more blarney, but begin!" said the Skeleton.
"One moment, gents!" said Pique-Vinaigre. "It is but right that the
capitalist who has given me ten sous should be the best situated, except
our _prevot_, who has first choice."
This proposal squared so well with the Skeleton's project that he
exclaimed:
"True; after me he ought to be best placed!" And again he looked
significantly at the prisoners.
"Yes, yes; let him come nearer," said the prisoners.
"Let him sit on the front bench."
"You see, young man, your liberality is recompensed; the honourable
company sees that you have a right to the front seat," said
Pique-Vinaigre to Germain.
Believing that his liberality had really better disposed his hateful
companions in his favour, and delighted thus to follow up Rigolette's
earnest desires, Germain, in spite of considerable repugnance, left the
place of his choice, and went towards the story-teller, who, having
arranged four or five benches around the stove, by the aid of Nicholas
and Barbillon, said, with emphasis:
"Here are the dress-boxes. All respect to the worthy--the capitalist
first."
"Now, then, let those who have paid take their seats," added
Pique-Vinaigre, gaily, firmly believing that, thanks to himself, Germain
had nothing now to fear. "And those who have not paid," he added, "will
sit down or stand up, which they please."
Let us sum up the arrangement of his scene. Pique-Vinaigre was standing
up near the stove ready to commence; near him was the Skeleton, also
standing up, and with his eyes intently fixed on Germain, ready to rush
upon him the moment the turnkey left the cell. At some distance from
Germain, Nicholas, Barbillon, Cardillac, and other prisoners, amongst
whom was the man with the blue cotton nightcap and gray blouse,
occupying the remoter benches. The majority of prisoners, grouped here
and there, some sitting on the ground, others standing and leaning
against the wall, composed the secondary figures of this picture,
lighted, a la Rembrandt, by three lateral windows, which threw strong
light and deep shadows on forms so variously characterised and so
strongly marked. The turnkey, whose departure was to be, unknown to
himself, the signal for Germain's murder, kept close to the door, which
was ajar.
"Are we all ready?" asked Pique-Vinaigre of the Skeleton.
"Silence in the stone-jug!" said the latter, turning half around; and
then addressing Pique-Vinaigre, "Now, begin; we are all attention!"