"Yes," said the old woman, with an expression of pity; "work so, and you will make a pair a-day. Go on, my boy; you will be very rich. My God! my God!" she continued, opening her pots, and with an expression of pitiful resignation, just as if the maternal instinct had endowed her with any of the feelings of humanity.
Consuelo, seeing her dinner did not come, was well aware what had happened, though she could scarcely think a hundred ducats had been absorbed in such a short time. She had previously marked out a plan of conduct, in regard to the jailer: not having as yet received a penny from the King of Prussia, (that was the way Voltaire was paid.) She was well aware that the money she had gained by charming the ears of some less avaricious persons would not last her long, if her incarceration were prolonged and Swartz did not modify his claims. She wished to force him to reduce his demands, and for two or three days contented herself with the bread and water he brought, without remarking the change in her diet. The stove also, began to be neglected, and Consuelo suffered with cold, without complaining of it. The weather, fortunately, was not very severe. It was April, when in Prussia the weather is not as mild as it is in France, but when the genial season commences.
Before entering into a parley with her avaricious tyrant, she set about disposing her money in a place of safety. She could not hope that she would not be subjected to an examination and an arbitrary seizure of her funds, as soon as she should own her resources. Necessity makes us shrewd, if it does not do more. Consuelo had nothing with which she could cut either wood or stone. On the next day as she examined with the minute patience of a prisoner, every corner of her cell, she observed a brick which did not seem to be as well jointed as the others. She scratched it with her nails, took out the mortar, which she saw was not lime, but a friable substance, which she supposed to be dried bread. She took out the brick, and found behind it a recess carefully formed in the depth of the wall. She was not surprised to find in it many things which to a prisoner were real luxuries; a package of pencils, a penknife, a flint, tinder, and parcels of that thin waxlight, twisted in rolls, and called care-nots. These things were not at all injured, the wall being dry, and besides, they could not have been there long before she took possession of the cell. With them she placed her purse, her filagree crucifix, which Swartz looked greedily at, saying it would be such a pretty thing for Gottlieb. She then replaced the brick and cemented it with her loaf, which she soiled a little by rubbing it on the floor, to make it appear the color of mortar.
Having become tranquil for a time, in relation to the occupation of her evenings and her means of existence, she waited with not a little eagerness for the domiciliary visit of Swartz, and felt proud and happy as if she had discovered a new world.
Swartz soon became tired of having no speculation. If he must work, said he, it was better to do it for a small sum than for nothing, and he broke the silence by asking prisoner No. 3 if she had nothing to order? Then Consuelo resolved to tell him that she had no money, but would receive funds every week by a means which it was impossible for him to discover.
"If you should do so," said she, "it would make it impossible for me to receive anything, and you must say whether you prefer the letter of your orders, to your interests."
After a long discussion, and after having for some days examined the clothes, floor, furniture, and bed, Swartz began to think that Consuelo received the means of existence from some superior officer of the fortress. Corruption existed in every grade of the prison officials, and subalterns never contradicted their more powerful associates.
"Let us take what God sends us," said Swartz, with a sigh, and he consented to settle every week with Porporina. She did not dispute about the disbursement of her funds, but regulated the accounts, so as not to pay more than twice the value of each article, a plan which Vrau Swartz thought very mean, but which did not prevent her from earning it.