"A little, my lad," said the Chourineur, resuming his usual tone of habitual carelessness; "and, pardieu! you would have been very wrong to have attributed my arrival at La Force to chance. If I had not known you, I should not have been in prison."
Germain looked at the Chourineur with amazement.
"What! It was because you knew me?"
"That I am here a prisoner in La Force."
"I, who owe you—"
"A candle to the Virgin, for having procured me the advantage of being in La Force."
"Really," said Germain, passing his hand over his brow. "I do not know whether the terrible shock I have just undergone has weakened my senses, but it is impossible for me to understand you. The turnkey told me you were here under a charge of—of—" said Germain, with hesitation.
"Robbery, pardieu! And robbery with forcible entry, and moreover at night; nothing could be more complete!" cried the Chourineur, with a hearty laugh.
Germain, painfully excited at the bold hardihood of the Chourineur, could not forbear saying to him:
"What, you, so brave, so generous, and speak in this way! Are you not aware of the terrible punishment to which you are exposed?"