Savinien, broken by grief, was sitting on the bed, and lowered his eyes without understanding anything.
“Listen,” said Jean François, who came and took him by the hands. “I understand! You have stolen three gold pieces to buy some trifle for a girl. That costs six months in prison. But one only comes out from there to go back again, and you will become a pillar of police courts and tribunals. I understand it. I have been seven years at the Reform School, a year at Sainte Pélagie, three years at Poissy, five years at Toulon. Now, don’t be afraid. Everything is arranged. I have taken it on my shoulders.”
“It is dreadful,” said Savinien; but hope was springing up again in his cowardly heart.
“When the elder brother is under the flag, the younger one does not go,” replied Jean François. “I am your substitute, that’s all. You care for me a little, do you not? I am paid. Don’t be childish—don’t refuse. They would have taken me again one of these days, for I am a runaway from exile. And then, do you see, that life will be less hard for me than for you. I know it all, and I shall not complain if I have not done you this service for nothing, and if you swear to me that you will never do it again. Savinien, I have loved you well, and your friendship has made me happy. It is through it that, since I have known you, I have been honest and pure, as I might always have been, perhaps, if I had had, like you, a father to put a tool in my hands, a mother to teach me my prayers. It was my sole regret that I was useless to you, and that I deceived you concerning myself. To-day I have unmasked in saving you. It is all right. Do not cry, and embrace me, for already I hear heavy boots on the stairs. They are coming with the posse, and we must not seem to know each other so well before those chaps.”
He pressed Savinien quickly to his breast, then pushed him from him, when the door was thrown wide open.
It was the landlord and the Auvergnat, who brought the police. Jean François sprang forward to the landing-place, held out his hands for the handcuffs, and said, laughing, “Forward, bad lot!”
To-day he is at Cayenne, condemned for life as an incorrigible.
