He knocked at the door of the prison cell, and the gaoler opened it for him and let him out.
"Well, Gautran?" said the gaoler, but Gautran, wrapped in contemplation of the door through which the Advocate had taken his departure, paid no attention to him. "Do you hear me?" cried the gaoler, shaking his prisoner with no gentle hand.
"What now?"
"Is the great lawyer going to defend you?"
"You want to know too much," said Gautran, and refused to speak another word on the subject.
During the whole of the day there were but two figures in his mind--those of the Advocate and the murdered girl. The latter presented itself in various accusing aspects, and he vainly strove to rid himself of the spectre. Its hair hung in wild disorder over neck and bosom, its white lips moved, its mournful eyes struck terror to his soul. The figure of the Advocate presented itself in far different aspects; it was always terrible, Satanic, and damning in its suggestions.
"What matter," muttered Gautran, "if he gets me off? I can do as I please then."
In the evening, when the small window in his cell was dark, the gaoler heard him crying out loudly. He entered, and demanded what ailed the wretch.
"Light--light!" implored Gautran; "give me light!"
"Beast in human shape," said the gaoler; "you have light enough. You'll get no more. Stop your howling, or I'll stop it for you!"