‘You are coming inside, I suppose,’ he said, sharply, to Pierre, who still slouched alongside.
The dumb man nodded sullenly.
Vandeloup cursed Pierre in his innermost heart, but smiled blandly and agreed to let him enter with him. There was some difficulty with the warder at the door, as the permission to see the prisoner was only made out in the name of M. Vandeloup, but after some considerable trouble they succeeded in getting in.
‘My faith!’ observed Gaston, lightly, as they went along to the cell, conducted by a warder, ‘it’s almost as hard to get into gaol as to get out of it.’
The warder admitted them both to Kitty’s cell, and left them alone with her. She was seated on the bed in the corner of the cell, in an attitude of deepest dejection. When they entered she looked up in a mechanical sort of manner, and Vandeloup could see how worn and pinched-looking her face was. Pierre went to one end of the cell and leaned against the wall in an indifferent manner, while Vandeloup stood right in front of the unhappy woman. Kitty arose when she saw him, and an expression of loathing passed over her haggard-looking face.
‘Ah!’ she said, bitterly, rejecting Vandeloup’s preferred hand, ‘so you have come to see your work; well, look around at these bare walls; see how thin and ugly I have grown; think of the crime with which I am charged, and surely even Gaston Vandeloup will be satisfied.’
The young man sneered.
‘Still as good at acting as ever, I see,’ he said, mockingly; ‘cannot you even see a friend without going into these heroics?’
‘Why have you come here?’ she asked, drawing herself up to her full height.
‘Because I am your friend,’ he answered, coolly.