"Yes," said my mother. "There are fifty louis in that roll—take great care not to lose it, for if the prisoners do not accept the money, I must give it back to the person who gave it."
"See, mother! I will put the roll in my fob."
I had no watch, but I had a fob.
I stuffed the roll in my fob, and flattened my waistcoat down over it.
Luckily, my poor mother always made my clothes too long and too large, to allow of my growing taller and stouter; so the pistols and the roll of gold could lie in my pockets and in the fob without appearing to bulge out too much.
"And now," I said, "I am ready."
Then my mother's courage seemed to fail her.
"Oh!" she cried, "if they discover what you are doing in that prison! if they were to arrest you!"
"I will not let them take me," I replied, drawing myself up with one of those braggart airs which made me so ridiculous when I affected them; "am I not armed?"