The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 5 of 6

"Yes."

"And your Josephine?"

"Just the same; a real ferret as ever. She cooks with the old couple I have mentioned to you, and so smelt out the pot with the golden honey in it."

"She's nothing but a trump!"

"I flatter myself she is. But, talking of trumps, you know the Chouette?"

"Yes; Nicholas has told me the Schoolmaster did for her, and he has gone mad."

"Perhaps from losing his sight through some accident. But I say, old fellow, it's quite understood that you will buy my two bargains, and so I shall not speak to any one else."

"Don't; and we will talk them over this evening."

"Well, and how are you getting on here?"

"Oh, we laugh and play the fool."

"Who's prévôt of the chamber?"

"The Skeleton."

"He's not to be joked with. I have seen him at Martial's, in the Isle du Ravageur. We had a flare-up with Josephine and La Boulotte."

"By the way, Nicholas is here."

"So Micou told me when he made a lament that Nicholas was putting the screw on – an old hunks! Why, what else were receivers made for?"

"Here is the Skeleton," said Cardillac, as the prévôt appeared at the door of the room.

"Young 'un, come forward," said the Skeleton to the Gros-Boiteux.

"Here I am," he replied, going into the apartment, accompanied by Frank, whose arm he held.

During the conversation between the Gros-Boiteux, Frank, and Cardillac, Barbillon had been, by order of the prévôt, to select twelve or fifteen of the choicest prisoners, who (in order to avoid the suspicions of the turnkey) had come separately into the day-room. The other détenus had remained in the yard, and some of them, by Barbillon's advice, had appeared to be disputing, in order to take off the attention of the turnkey from the room in which were now assembled the Skeleton, Barbillon, Nicholas, Frank, Cardillac, the Gros-Boiteux, and some fifteen other prisoners, all awaiting with impatient curiosity until the prévôt should open the business.

Barbillon, charged with the look-out, placed himself near the door. The Skeleton, taking his pipe from his mouth, said to the Gros-Boiteux:

"Do you know a slim young man named Germain, with blue eyes, brown hair, and the look of a noodle?"

"What! Is Germain here?" inquired the Gros-Boiteux, with surprise, hate, and anger in his looks.

"What, then, you know him?" said the Skeleton.

"Know him?" replied the Gros-Boiteux. "Why, my lads, I denounce him as a nose, and he must be punished!"

"Yes, yes!" replied the prisoners.

"Are you sure it was he who informed against you?" asked Frank; "suppose it was a mistake, – we mustn't ill-use a man who's innocent."

This remark was displeasing to the Skeleton, who leaned over to the Gros-Boiteux, and said in his ear:

"Who is this man?"

"One with whom I have worked."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes – but he hasn't gull enough – too much treacle in him."

"Good, I'll keep an eye on him."

"Tell us how Germain turned nose," said a prisoner.

"Yes, let us know all about it, Gros-Boiteux," continued the Skeleton, who did not take his eyes off Frank.

"Well, then," said Gros-Boiteux, "a man of Nantes, named Velu, a freed convict, brought up the young fellow, whose birth no one is acquainted with. When he had reached the proper age they put him into a banking-house at Nantes, thinking they had put a wolf to watch the money-box, and make use of Germain to do a bold and great stroke which had been meditated for a very long time. There were to be two coups, a forgery and a dip into the strong chest at the bank, something like a hundred and fifty thousand francs. All was arranged, and Velu relied on the young fellow as on himself, for the chap slept in the room in which the iron safe was. Velu told him his plans; Germain neither says yes or no, but reveals all to his employer, and the very same evening cuts his stick and mizzles to Paris."

The prisoners burst into various murmurs of indignation and threats.

"He's a spy – nose – informer! – and we'll have the bones out of his body!"

"If it's agreeable, I'll seek a quarrel with him, and settle his hash!"

"Silence in the stone jug!" exclaimed the Skeleton, in a tone of command.

The prisoners were silent.

"Go on," said the prévôt to Gros-Boiteux, and he went on smoking.

"Believing that Germain had consented, and relying on his assistance, Velu and two of his friends attempted the job that same night. The banker was on the watch; one of Velu's friends was taken as he was entering a window, he himself escaping with difficulty. He reached Paris enraged at having been sold by Germain, and foiled in a splendid affair. One fine day he met the young fellow; it was in the open daylight, and he didn't dare do anything, but he followed him, found out where he lived, and one night we two, Velu and little Ledru, fell on Germain. Unfortunately he escaped, and then changed his residence in the Rue du Temple, where he lived; we were unable to find him afterwards. But if he is here, I demand – "

"You have nothing to demand," said the Skeleton, in a tone of authority.

The Gros-Boiteux was instantly silent.

"I take the bargain off your hands; you will concede to me Germain's skin, and I'll flay him alive. I am not called the Skeleton for nothing. I am dead-alive, my grave is dug, and I run no risk in working for the stone jug. The informers destroy us faster than the police; they put noses of La Force into La Roquette, and the noses of La Roquette in the Conciergerie, and they think themselves safe. Now, mind you, when each prison shall have killed its informer, no matter when he may have informed, that will take away the others' appetite. I will set the example, and let others follow it."

All the prisoners, admiring the Skeleton's resolution, closed around him. Barbillon himself, instead of remaining near the door, joined the group, and did not perceive another prisoner, who had entered the room. This individual, clothed in a gray blouse, and wearing a blue cotton cap with a red worsted border, pulled down over his eyes, started as he heard the name of Germain mentioned, and then, mingling with the Skeleton's admirers, gave out loud tones of approbation at the deadly determination of the prévôt.

"What an out-and-outer the Skeleton is!" said one.

"The devil himself is a fool to him!"

"This here's what I call a man!"

"If all were like him, wouldn't the flats be afeard?"

"He'll do a real service to the stone jug, and when they see this, the noses will look blue."

"And no mistake!"

"And since the Skeleton is safe to suffer, why, it'll cost him nothing to put a nose out of joint!"

"Well, I think it's too bad," said Frank, "to kill the young chap."

"Why? Why?" exclaimed the Skeleton, in a savage tone; "no one has a right to protect a traitor."

"Yes, to be sure, he is a traitor, – so much the worse for him," said Frank, after a moment's reflection.

These latter words, and Gros-Boiteux's assurance, put the doubts which the other prisoners had entertained against Frank to rest.

The Skeleton alone continued to mistrust him.

"And what are we to do with the turnkey? Tell us, Dead-Alive, for that is your name as well as the Skeleton," said Nicholas, with a grin.

"We must draw off his attention somehow."

"No; we'll hold him down by main force."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Silence in the stone jug!" said the Skeleton.

There was complete silence.

"Listen to me!" said the prévôt, in his hoarse voice. "There is no means of doing the thing so long as the turnkey remains in the day-room or the walking-yard. I have no knife, and there must be a few groans, for the sneak will struggle."

"Well, what then?"

"Why, this. Pique-Vinaigre has promised to tell us to-day after dinner his story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' It rains, and we shall all come here, and the sneak will come and sit down there in the corner, as he always does. We'll give Pique-Vinaigre some sous that he may begin his tale. It will be dinner-time in the gaol; the turnkey will see us quietly employed in listening to the miraculous mystery of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half,' and will, suspecting no harm, make off to the tap. As soon as he has left the yard we shall have a quarter of an hour to ourselves, and the nose will be cold meat before the turnkey can return. I will undertake it, – I who have done for stouter fellows in my day; and mind, I'll have no assistance!"

"Mind your eye!" cried Cardillac; "and what about the huissier who will always come for a gossip amongst us at dinner-time? If he comes into the room to listen to Pique-Vinaigre, and sees Germain done for, he will cry out for help. He's not one of us, the huissier, – he's in a private cell, and we should mistrust him."

"Is there a huissier here?" said Frank, the victim as we know of a breach of trust, by Maître Boulard. "Is there a huissier here?" he repeated, with astonishment, "and what is his name?"

"Boulard," replied Cardillac.

"The very man! The identical villain!" cried Frank, clenching his fists. "It is he who has stolen my savings!"

"The huissier?" inquired the prévôt.

"Yes, seven hundred francs of mine."

"You know him? And has he seen you?" inquired the Skeleton.

"I have seen him, worse luck! But for him I should not be here."

These regrets sounded ill in the Skeleton's ears, and he fixed his malignant eyes steadfastly on Frank, who replied to several of his comrade's questions. Then stooping towards the Gros-Boiteux, he said, in a low voice:

"This is a fresh 'un who might tell the turnkey."

"No, I'll answer for his not informing against any one; yet still he has his scruples about going the whole hog, and he might aid Germain in defending himself. It would be best to get him out of the yard."

"I'll do it," said the Skeleton; and then aloud he said, "I say, Frank, won't you pitch into this thief of a lawyer?"

"Won't I, that's all!"

"Well, he's coming, and so look out."

"I'm ready, and he shall bear my marks!"

"We shall have a row, and they will send the huissier to his room and Frank to the black-hole," said the Skeleton, in an undertone, to the Gros-Boiteux; "we shall thus get rid of both."

"What a lucky pitch! Why, this Skeleton is a prime minister!" said the Boiteux, admiringly; and then he added, in a loud tone, "I say, shall we tell Pique-Vinaigre that we shall avail ourselves of his history to come over the turnkey and throttle the sneak?"

"By no means; Pique-Vinaigre is too soft and too cowardly. If he was up to the thing he wouldn't tell the story, but when the job is done and over he'll bear his share."

The dinner-bell sounded at this moment.

"To your puddings, dogs!" said the Skeleton; "Pique-Vinaigre and Germain will soon be in the yard. Now mind your eyes, my boys! They call me Dead-Alive, but the sneak is also dead-alive!"

CHAPTER X
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 détenus 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 Maître 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 Maître 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 Maître 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 Maître 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 Maître 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, Maître 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 bête noire of the prison yard.'" Then suddenly interrupting himself, Pique-Vinaigre said to Germain, "I beg your pardon for calling you a bête 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 bête 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 préfet 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.