Mysteries of Paris - LightNovelsOnl.com
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The Big Cripple and Frank quickly turned their heads. The bailiff was stupefied, and stood with his mouth open on recognizing him whom he had swindled.
Frank, throwing his bread and meat on the bench, with one bound jumped at Boulard, whom he caught by the throat, crying:
"My money!"
"How? What? You strangle me. I--"
"My money!"
"My friend, listen to me!"
"My money! And yet is is too late, for it is your fault that I am here."
"But--I--but--"
"If I go to the hulks, mark me, it is your fault; for if I had that of which you robbed me, I should not have been under the necessity of stealing. I should have remained honest, as I wished to be. And you will be acquitted perhaps--they will do nothing to you. But I will do something to you. You shall bear my marks. Ah! you wear jewels, gold chains, and you rob. There--there--have you enough? No--here, take some more!"
"Help, help!" cried the bailiff, rolling under the feet of Frank, who struck him furiously.
The other prisoners, very indifferent to this squabble, made a ring round the combatants, or, rather, round the beating and the beaten, for Boulard, panting and much alarmed, made no resistance, but endeavored to parry, as well as he could, the blows of his adversary. Happily, the overseer ran up, on hearing the cries, and released the bailiff from his peril. Boulard arose, pale and trembling, with one of his large eyes bruised, and, without giving himself time to pick up his cap, cried, as he ran toward the wicket:
"Keeper--open for me; I do not wish to remain a moment longer--help!"
"And you, for having struck the gentleman, follow me to the governor," said the keeper, taking Frank by the collar; "you will go to the blackhole two days for this."
"I don't care; he has got his gruel."
"Mum!" whispered the Cripple to Frank, pretending to adjust his clothes, "not a word of what they are going to do to the spy."
"Be easy; perhaps if I had been there, I should have defended him; for to kill a man for that is hard; but blab! never."
"Will you come?" said the keeper.
"There we are rid of the bailiff and Frank now; hot work for the spy!" said Nicholas.
As Frank left the court, Germain and Pique-Vinaigre entered. Germain was no longer recognizable; his physiognomy, formerly so sad and cast down, was radiant with joy; he carried his head erect, and cast around him a cheerful and a.s.sured glance; he was beloved!--the horrors of the prison disappeared from before his eyes. Pique-Yinaigre followed him with an embarra.s.sed air; at length, after having hesitated two or three times to accost him, he made a great effort, and slightly touched the arm of Germain before he had approached the group of prisoners, who, at a distance, were examining him with sullen hatred. Their victim could not escape. In spite of himself, Germain shuddered at the touch of Pique-Vinaigre; for the face and rags of the ex-juggler did not speak much in his favor. But, recollecting the advice of Rigolette, and, besides, too happy not to be friendly, Germain stopped, and said kindly to Pique-Vinaigre,
"What do you wish?"
"To thank you."
"For what?"
"For what your pretty little visitor wishes to do for my sister."
"I do not understand you," said Germain, surprised.
"I am going to explain. Just now, in the office, I met the overseer, who was on guard in the visitors' room."
"Ah, yes; a very good man."
"Ordinarily, the jailers do not agree with that description. But Roussel is another bird; he deserves it. Just now he whispered in my ear, 'Pique-Vinaigre, my boy, do you know Germain well?' 'Yes; the b.u.t.t of the yard,' I answered." Then, interrupting himself, Pique-Vinaigre said to Germain, "Pardon, excuse me, if I have called you a b.u.t.t. Do not think of it; wait for the end. 'Yes, then,' I answered, 'I know Germain, the b.u.t.t of the prison.' 'And yours also, perhaps, Pique-Vinaigre?' asked the keeper, in a severe tone. 'I am too cowardly and too good-natured to allow myself any kind of a b.u.t.t black, white, or gray, and Germain still less than any other for he does not appear wicked, and they are unjust toward him.'
'Well, Pique-Vinaigre, you have reason to be on Germain's side, for he has been good to you.' 'To me? How so?' 'That is to say, not to you; but, saving that, you owe him great grat.i.tude,' answered old Roussel."
"Let us see; explain yourself a little more clearly," said Germain, smiling.
"That is exactly what I said to the keeper: 'Do speak more clearly.' Then he answered, 'It is not Germain, but his pretty little visitor, who has been full of kindness for your sister. She overheard her relate to you her misfortunes, and, as she was about leaving, the girl offered her any a.s.sistance she could render.'"
"Good Rigolette!" cried Germain, affected. "She took good care not to mention it."
"'Oh, then,' I answered the keeper, 'I am only a gander. You are right; Germain has been good to me; for his visitor is, as may be said, himself, and my sister Jeanne is myself and much more.'"
"Poor little Rigolette!" said Germain. "This does not surprise me; she has a heart so generous and susceptible!"
"The keeper went on; 'I heard all this without pretending to listen. Now you know, if you do not try to render a service to Germain; if you do not warn him in case of any plot against him, you will be a finished scoundrel, Pique-Vinaigre.' 'Keeper, I am a scoundrel,' commenced I, 'it is true; but not a finished scoundrel. In fine, since Germain's visitor wished to do some good to my poor Jeanne, who is a good and honest girl, I will do for Germain what I can; unfortunately, that will be no great things.'"
"'Never mind, do what you can; I am also going to give you some good news for Germain; I have just heard it.'"
"What is it, then?" asked Germain.
"'To-morrow there will be a separate cell vacant,' the keeper told me to inform you."
"Can it be true? Oh, what happiness!" cried Germain. "The good man was right; it is good news you tell me."
"I think so; for your place is not with rough-scuff like us, Germain." Then he added hastily, and in a low tone, as he pretended to stoop for something, "Germain, look at the prisoners, how they stare at us; they are astonished to see us talking together. I leave you; be on your guard. If they pick a quarrel, do not answer; they only want a pretext to engage you in a dispute, and beat you. Barbillon is to begin the dispute--look out for him; I will try to turn them from this notion." And Pique-Vinaigre lifted up his head as if he had found what he pretended to look for. Only informed of the conspiracy of the morning, which was to provoke a quarrel in which Germain would be roughly handled, in order to force the governor to change his ward, not only was Pique-Vinaigre ignorant of the murderous project, but he was also ignorant that they counted on his story of Gringalet to deceive and distract the attention of the keeper.
"Come along, lazybones!" said Nicholas to Pique-Vinaigre, going to meet him; "leave your ration of flesh there; we have a merry-making and feasting. I invite you."
"Whereabouts? To the Panier-Fleuri? to the Pet.i.t Ramponneau?"
"No, in the hall; the table is set on a bench. We have some ham, eggs, and cheese--my treat."
"That suits me; but it is a pity to lose my ration, and still more that my sister cannot profit by it. Neither she nor her children often see meat, except at the butcher's door."
"Come, come quick, Skeleton is making a beast of himself; he is capable of devouring the whole with Barbillon."
Nicholas and Pique-Vinaigre entered the hall; seated astride on the end of the bench where the feast was spread, Skeleton swore and cursed while waiting for the giver of the banquet.
"Here you are at last, snail, laggard!" cried the bandit, at the sight of Pique-Vinaigre; "what have you been doing then?"
"He was chatting with Germain," said Nicholas, carving the ham.
"Oh! talking with Germain?" said Skeleton, looking attentively at Pique-Vinaigre, without pausing in his mastication.
"Yes!" answered the patterer. "Oh! here is another who never invented bootjacks and hard eggs (I say eggs, because I adore them). Isn't he a fool! this Germain! I used to think that he was a spy, but he is too much of a flat for that!"
"Oh! you think so?" said Skeleton, exchanging a rapid and significant glance with Nicholas and Barbillon.