On hearing this language, Germain comprehended still less how the Slasher could have committed the robbery of which he accused himself.
"No," thought Germain, "it is impossible; this man, who suffers himself to be thus carried away by the simple words honor and heart, cannot have committed this robbery of which he speaks with such ease."
The Slasher continued, without remarking the astonishment of Germain: "Finally, the reason why I am to M. Rudolph like a dog to his master, is that he has raised me in my own estimation. Before I knew him, I was only sensible to the touch; but he made me feel within, and deep down, I bet you. Once separated from him and the place where he dwelt, I found myself like a body without a soul. As I traveled on, I said to myself, 'He leads such a queer life! he mingles with such great scoundrels (I know something about it), that he will risk his bones twenty times a day,' and it is under these circumstances that I could play the dog for him, and defend my master; for I have good teeth. But, on the other hand, he had told me, 'You must, my friend, make yourself useful to others; go, then, where you may be of some good.' I had a great desire to answer him, 'For me, there is no one to serve, but you, M. Rudolph.' But I did not dare. He had told me to 'Go.' I went; and I have obeyed him as well as I was able. But, thunder! when the time came to get into the tub, leave France, and place the sea between M. Rudolph and me, without the hope of ever seeing him again, in truth, I had not the courage. He told his correspondent to give me a heap of money as heavy as I am when I should embark. I went to see the gentleman. I told him, 'It is impossible just now; I prefer the solid ground. Give me enough to get back to Paris on foot. I have good legs. I cannot embark. M. Rudolph may say what he pleases; he will be angry, he will not see me any more. Possibly I shall see him; I shall be where he is; and if he continues the life he leads, sooner or later, I shall arrive in time, perhaps, to put myself between a knife and him.' And, besides, I cannot live so far away from him. At length they gave me enough for my journey. I arrived at Paris. I do not fear trifles: but once back fear seized me. What could I say to M. Rudolph to excuse myself for having returned without his permission? Bah! after all, he will not eat me. What is to be will be. I will go to find his friend a bald man—another trump, this one. Thunder! when M. Murphy came in, I said, 'My fate will be decided.' I felt my throat dry—my heart beat a tattoo. I expected to be scolded soundly. The worthy man received me as as if he had left me the evening previous. He told me that M. Rudolph, far from being angry, wished to see me at once. In short, he took me to my protector. Thunder! when I found myself again face to face with him, who has such an open hand and so good a heart, terrible as a lion, and gentle as a child, a prince, who has worn a blouse like me—to have the opportunity (which I bless) of punching my eye. Faith, M. Germain, on thinking of all these fascinations which he possesses, I felt myself done up. I wept like a doe. Well! instead of laughing—for imagine my mug when I weep—M. Rudolph said to me, seriously:
"'So you are back again, my good fellow?'
"'Yes, M. Rudolph, pardon me if I am wrong, but I could not go. Make me a little nest in the corner of your court, give me my food, or let me earn it here; that is all I ask from you; and, above all, do not be angry because I have returned.'
"'I am so far from that, my good friend, that you have returned just in time to render me a service.'
"'I, M. Rudolph! Can it be possible! Well, do you see, it must be, as you told me, that there is Something upstairs; otherwise, how explain that I arrive here just at the moment when you have need of me? What is it, then, I can, do for you, M. Rudolph—jump from the top of the towers of Notre-Dame?'
"'Less than that, my man. An honest, excellent young man, in whom I am as much interested as if he were my son, is unjustly accused of robbery, and confined in La Force; he is called Germain, and is of a mild and gentle disposition; the scoundrels with whom he is imprisoned have taken an aversion to him; he may be in great danger; you, who have unfortunately the experience of a prison life, and know a great number of prisoners, could you not, in case some of your old comrades should be at La Force, could you not go and see them, and, by promises of money which shall be faithfully kept, engage them to protect this unhappy young man?'"
"But who, then, is this generous and unknown man, who takes so much interest in my fate?" said Germain, more and more surprised.
"You will know, perhaps; as for me, I am ignorant. To return to my conversation with M. Rudolph: while he was talking an idea struck me, but an idea so laughable, that I could not keep from laughing before him. 'What is the matter?' said he.