'I will wait for you here,' said Macquart, coming to a halt in a little courtyard. 'Alexandre will remain with you.'
'I would rather be left alone,' said Marthe.
'Madame would very quickly have enough of it, if she were,' Alexandre replied, with a tranquil smile. 'I'm running a good deal of risk as it is.'
He took Marthe through another court, and stopped in front of a little door. As he softly turned the key, he said in a low voice:
'Don't be afraid. He has been quieter to-day, and they have been able to take the strait-waistcoat off. If he shows any violence you must step out backwards, and leave me alone with him.'
Marthe trembled as she passed through the narrow doorway. At first she could only see something lying in a heap against the wall in one of the corners. The daylight was waning, and the cell was merely lighted by a pale glimmer which fell from a grated window.
'Well, my fine fellow!' Alexandre exclaimed familiarly, as he stepped up to Mouret and tapped him on the shoulder; 'I am bringing you a visitor. I hope you will behave properly.'
Then he returned and leant against the door, keeping his eyes fixed upon the madman. Mouret slowly rose to his feet. He did not show the slightest sign of surprise.
'Is it you, my dear?' he said in his quiet voice. 'I was expecting you; I was getting uneasy about the children.'
Marthe's knees trembled under her, and she looked at him anxiously, rendered quite speechless by his affectionate reception. He did not appear changed at all. If anything, he looked better than he had done before. He was sleek and plump, and cleanly shaved. His eyes, too, were bright; all his former little mannerisms had reappeared, and he rubbed his hands and winked, and stalked about with his old bantering air.