“You will understand, gentlemen,” Blangin went on, “that I did not
feel quite reassured. It is a bad cell that in which M. de Boiscoran is
staying. Since I have been at Sauveterre, one man has killed himself
in it, and one man has tried to commit suicide. So I called Trumence, a
poor vagrant who assists me in the jail; and we arranged it that one of
us would always be on guard, never losing the prisoner out of sight for
a moment. But it was a useless precaution. At night, when they carried
M. de Boiscoran his supper, he was perfectly calm; and he even said he
would try to eat something to keep his strength. Poor man! If he has no
other strength than what his meal would give him, he won’t go far. He
had not swallowed four mouthfuls, when he was almost smothered; and
Trumence and I at one time thought he would die on our hands: I almost
thought it might be fortunate. However, about nine o’clock he was a
little better; and he remained all night long at his window.”