"True; I encourage her in the vice of being honest, and that is the only line in which she shines. But come, it is agreed that I shall tell you my famous story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' But you must hand out twenty sous, and Barbillon shall not pick a quarrel with this simpleton of a Germain!"

"Well, you shall have twenty sous, and Barbillon shall not pick a quarrel with that simpleton of a Germain," said the Skeleton.

"Then open your ears, and you will hear what you will hear! But it is raining, which will make the customers tumble in, and there will be no occasion to go out and seek them."

And the rain began to fall, and the prisoners, quitting the yard, took refuge in the day-room, the turnkey being still in attendance.

We have said that this room was large and long, with a pavement, and lighted by three windows, which looked out into the yard. In the centre was the stove, near which were the Skeleton, Barbillon, Nicholas, and Pique-Vinaigre. At a signal from the prévôt, the Gros-Boiteux joined this group. Germain was one of the last to enter, absorbed in most delightful thoughts, and he went mechanically to seat himself on the ledge at the lowest window in the apartment, a place he usually occupied, and which no one disputed with him, for it was at a distance from the stove around which the prisoners were assembled.

We have already said that some fifteen of the prisoners had been informed in the first instance of the treachery attributed to Germain, and the murder which was to avenge it. But, soon whispered to one another, the plan comprised as many adherents as there were prisoners; these ruffians, in their blind cruelty, considering this fearful plot as legitimate revenge, and viewing therein a certain guarantee against the future disclosure of spies. Germain, Pique-Vinaigre, and the turnkey were alone ignorant of what was about to take place. General attention was divided between the executioner, the victim, and the story-teller, who was about innocently to deprive Germain of the only succour he could hope for; for it is nearly sure that the turnkey, when he saw the prisoners attentive to the story of Pique-Vinaigre, would think his surveillance useless, and take advantage of that moment of tranquillity to go and take his meal. And when the prisoners had entered, the Skeleton said to the turnkey:

"Old fellow, Pique-Vinaigre has a capital idea; he is going to tell us his story of 'Gringalet and Cut-in-Half.' It is weather in which one would not put a policeman out-of-doors, and we shall quietly wait in till it is time to go to roost."

"Why, you are always pretty quiet when he begins his talk, and have no need for me to be at your heels."

"Yes," said the Skeleton; "but Pique-Vinaigre asks a high price,—he wants twenty sous for his story."

"Yes, the trifle of twenty sous,—a mere nothing!" cried Pique-Vinaigre. "Yes, gents, nothing; for who that had a liard would not bestow it to hear the adventures of poor little Gringalet, Cut-in-Half, and the wicked Gargousse? It will rend your hearts, and make your hair stand on end! And, gents, who is there that would not dispose of the paltry sum of four liards—or, if you prefer counting my mites, of five centimes—to have their hearts rent and their hair standing on end?"