“We have always long hours in the police, monsieur.”
At that moment the outer door was opened, and a servant appeared bringing my breakfast.
“Excellent!” I cried, entering the outer room and looking at the repast, which was indeed elaborate. “I see I shall have no cause to complain of M. Hérault’s hospitality. Have you breakfasted, lieutenant?”
“Two hours ago, monsieur.”
“Two hours ago! Great heavens, man, your stomach must be an aching emptiness by this time! Sit down, I beg of you. There is enough here for two and some to spare for your men.”
I saw that the man was indeed hungry and looked at my breakfast with eager eyes, but he shook his head at my invitation.
“Ah, come, monsieur,” I said, “why should we refuse to be civil to each other just because I am prisoner and you are guard? It seems to me that a little good feeling will make the day pass more quickly for both of us. Even if you cannot eat, bear me company, I beg of you, for I abhor sitting down alone to table,” and I gently forced him into a chair and myself took the one opposite. He yielded, though still with a show of reluctance, and I maintained a lively conversation while we ate, carefully avoiding any remark which could appear suspicious, and finally succeeded in drawing the man out a little. I ordered another bottle of wine, and treated the five soldiers to a glass apiece, a courtesy which I saw they appreciated. Breakfast was finally finished and we arose.
“What a charming view!” I cried, sauntering to the window and gazing down over the river. “M. Hérault’s house overlooks the Seine it appears.”
“It stands upon the bank, monsieur,” answered the lieutenant, who had followed me.
“Come, monsieur,” I said, turning to him and seemingly taking no further interest in the view, “I have not yet asked your name.”