On the instant he set off for the young working-girl's home, ran up the sixty stairs which led to her lodgings, and burst into the room where the lovely grisette in a coquettish négligé was ironing her linen.
"Ah!" exclaimed Gervaise, with a fascinating little shriek; "ah! monsieur, you frightened me!"
"Gervaise, my dear Gervaise," cried Aubry, rushing toward her with open arms: "you must save my life, my child."
"One moment, one moment," said Gervaise, using the hot flat-iron as a shield; "what do you want, master gadabout? for three days I haven't seen you."
"I have done wrong, Gervaise, I am an unfortunate wretch. But a sure proof that I love you is that I run to you in my distress. I repeat it, Gervaise, you must save my life."
"Yes. I understand, you have been getting tipsy in some wine shop, and have had a dispute with some one. The archers are after you to put you in prison, and you come to poor Gervaise to give you shelter. Go to prison, monsieur, go to prison, and leave me in peace."
"That is just what I ask and all I ask, my little Gervaise,—to go to prison. But the villains refuse to commit me."
"O mon Dieu! Jacques," said the young woman compassionately, "have you gone mad?"
"There you are! they say that I am mad, and propose to send me to the asylum, while the Châtelet is where I want to go."
"You want to go to the Châtelet? What for, Aubry? The Châtelet's a frightful prison; they say that when one gets in there, it's impossible to say when one will come out."