I sprang to my feet and put on my coat, which he had carefully laid over my shoulders.
"That is, it is high time for you," he added.
"How so?" I asked, in alarm.
"I should not get far," he replied, with a sad smile; "I just now made a little trial; but it is impossible."
And he seated himself on a projecting piece of the wall, and leaned his head upon his hand.
"Then I also stay," I said.
"They will soon follow us up here."
"So much the more reason for my remaining."
He raised his head.
"You are a generous fool," he said, with a melancholy smile; "one of those that remain anvils all their life long. What advantage in the world could it be to me, that they caught you with me here? And why should you give up, and let yourself be caught? Are you brought down to nothing, and less than nothing? Are you an old wounded fox, burnt out of his den and with the hounds on his track? Go, and do not make me entreat you any more, for it hurts me to talk. Good-by!"