"Are you in earnest, Trumence?" he asked.
"Certainly I am, my dear sir. Here, you see, I am not so badly off: Ihave a good bed, I have two meals a day, I have nothing to do, and Ipick up now and then, from one man or another, a few cents to buy me a pinch of tobacco or a glass of wine.""But your liberty?"
"Well, I shall get that too. I have committed no crime. I may have gotten over a wall into an orchard; but people are not hanged for that. I have consulted M. Magloire, and he told me precisely how Istand. They will try me in a police-court, and they will give me three or four months. Well, that is not so very bad. But, if I run away, they put the gendarmes on my track; they bring me back here; and then I know how they will treat me. Besides, to break jail is a grave offence."How could he overcome such wise conclusions and such excellent reasons? Jacques was very much troubled.
"Why should the gendarmes take you again?" he asked.
"Because they are gendarmes, my dear sir. And then, that is not all.
If it were spring, I should say at once, 'I am your man.' But we have autumn now; we are going to have bad weather; work will be scarce."Although an incurable idler, Trumence had always a good deal to say about work.
"You won't help them in the vintage?" asked Jacques.
The vagabond looked almost repenting.
"To be sure, the vintage must have commenced," he said.
"Well?"
"But that only lasts a fortnight, and then comes winter. And winter is no man's friend: it's my enemy. I know I have been without a place to lie down when it has been freezing to split stones, and the snow was a foot deep. Oh! here they have stoves, and the Board gives very warm clothes.""Yes; but there are no merry evenings here, Trumence, eh? None of those merry evenings, when the hot wine goes round, and you tell the girls all sorts of stories, while you are shelling peas, or shucking corn?""Oh! I know. I do enjoy those evenings. But the cold! Where should Igo when I have not a cent?"
That was exactly where Jacques wanted to lead him.
"I have money," he said.
"I know you have."
"You do not think I would let you go off with empty pockets? I would give you any thing you may ask.""Really?" cried the vagrant.
And looking at Jacques with a mingled expression of hope, surprise, and delight, he added,--"You see I should want a good deal. Winter is long. I should want--let me see, I should want fifty Napoleons!""You shall have a hundred," said Jacques.
Trumence's eyes began to dance. He probably had a vision of those irresistible taverns at Rochefort, where he had led such a merry life.
But he could not believe such happiness to be real.
"You are not making fun of me?" he asked timidly.
"Do you want the whole sum at once?" replied Jacques. "Wait."He drew from the drawer in his table a thousand-franc note. But, at the sight of the note, the vagrant drew back the hand which he had promptly stretched out to take the money.
"Oh! that kind? No! I know what that paper is worth: I have had some of them myself. But what could I do with one of them now? It would not be worth more to me than a leaf of a tree; for, at the first place Ishould want it changed, they would arrest me.""That is easily remedied. By to-morrow I shall have gold, or small notes, so you can have your choice."This time Trumence clapped his hands in great joy.
"Give me some of one kind, and some of the other," he said, "and I am your man! Hurrah for liberty! Where is that wall that we are to go through?""I will show you to-morrow; and till them, Trumence, silence."It was only the next day that Blangin showed Jacques the place where the wall had least thickness. It was in a kind of cellar, where nobody ever came, and where cast-off tools were stored away.
"In order that you may not be interrupted," said the jailer, "I will ask two of my comrades to dine with me, and I shall invite the sergeant on duty. They will enjoy themselves, and never think of the prisoners. My wife will keep a sharp lookout; and, if any of the rounds should come this way, she would warn you, and quick, quick, you would be back in your room."All was settled; and, as soon as night came, Jacques and Trumence, taking a candle with them, slipped down into the cellar, and went to work. It was a hard task to get through this old wall, and Jacques would never have been able to accomplish it alone. The thickness was even less than what Blangin had stated it to be; but the hardness was far beyond expectation. Our fathers built well. In course of time the cement had become one with the stone, and acquired the same hardness.
It was as if they had attacked a block of granite. The vagrant had, fortunately, a strong arm; and, in spite of the precautions which they had to take to prevent being heard, he had, in less than an hour, made a hole through which a man could pass. He put his head in; and, after a moment's examination, he said,--"All right! The night is dark, and the place is deserted. Upon my word, I will risk it!"He went through; Jacques followed; and instinctively they hastened towards a place where several trees made a dark shadow. Once there, Jacques handed Trumence a package of five-franc notes, and said,--"Add this to the hundred Napoleons I have given you before. Thank you:
you are a good fellow, and, if I get out of my trouble, I will not forget you. And now let us part. Make haste, be careful, and good luck!"After these words he went off rapidly. But Trumence did not march off in the opposite direction, as had been agreed upon.
"Anyhow," said the poor vagrant to himself, "this is a curious story about the poor gentleman. Where on earth can he be going?"And, curiosity getting the better of prudence, he followed him.
