He was well accustomed to insult and abuse, no doubt, but these imprecations on the walls, in that gruesome and silent prison, seemed like the last curses of the dead, written in letters of fire and blood!
"They must occupy themselves, I suppose!" remarked Barassin, still laughing.
The Incorruptible turned away, feeling ill at ease. Again he questioned the man, fixing him the while as if he would fathom the depths of his experience. Did he keep watch every night? He must have witnessed some heart-rending scenes? Was he not disturbed in his sleep, living thus in continual contact with the dread spectre of death? Could he really sleep? Did not the cries of the victims disturb his slumber? Was he not haunted by their solemn leavetakings and their sobs?
Citoyen Robespierre could rest assured! Barassin slept soundly enough! Such fancies were very well for women! In the first place, the dead never returned, and then, after all, it was not Barassin who killed the victims, was it?
Steps were heard advancing, and the turnkey made his reappearance. The registrar had gone away and taken the keys with him. It was impossible to get at the prison register. He then suggested that Robespierre should go with him to the men's ward.
"Let us awake the prisoners. If the man you seek is there you will easily recognize him."
The Incorruptible refused, starting involuntarily. He had no wish to be seen by the prisoners.
Then, there was but one course left. Barrassin might accompany him, and speak to the men's turnkey, who would look for this Germain from bed to bed, and Barassin would bring back to Robespierre the result of the inquiry, as he himself had to return to his post. Robespierre would have to wait a little while, of course. And Collas moved the watchman's chair towards him.
"Very good! I will wait, but be quick!"
The two men went away, turning to the left, through the small gate, which Barassin carefully closed behind him. Robespierre followed the watchman with his eyes.