“Now, when I took that saw of yours, I said to myself, ‘Here is a joke I will play on M. Ferminard. What a temper he will be in when he finds that I have outwitted him. He wishes to prevent my escape so that he may not be left in loneliness? We will see.’ Well, M. Ferminard, embarked on that course of action, I never stopped to think that all the time I was cutting that bar I was violating your trust in me. When I found that you did not open the sou to examine whether its contents were safe, I should have paused to take counsel with myself and inquire if liberty were worth the deception of a good and honest mind which placed its faith in me. But I did not pause to take counsel with myself, and for two reasons. First, as I said before, I never stop to think when I am in action; secondly, I am so unused to meeting with good and honest minds that I did not suspect one was in the next cell to me. It is true, M. Ferminard. The men with whom I have always lived have been men very much like myself. Men who do not think much, and who, when they do think, are full of suspicion as a rule. We are robbed by our servants, our wives, and our mistresses. We cheat each other, not at cards, but with phrases and at the game of Love, and so forth. You said you were of small extraction and one of the rafataille—well, it is among the rafataille, among the People, during the last few days that I have met three individuals who have struck me as being the only worthy individuals it has been my lot to meet. They are yourself, Monsieur Lavenne, and little Javotte, a girl whom you do not know.”
“Believe me, monsieur,” said Ferminard, “I have no unworthy thought concerning you. At first, yes, but now after what you have said, no. I am like that myself, and had I been in your place, I would, I am very sure, have done as you did.”
“Perhaps,” replied Rochefort. “But I cannot use the rope, so here it is and I will leave my release from prison to God and M. de Sartines.”
He began to push the rope through the hole. It would not go. Ferminard was pushing it back.
“No, M. de Rochefort—one moment till I speak—I have been blinded to my best interests by my desire to keep you as a companion. You must escape, you must do as Fate dictated to you, and to me, when she gave us the fruits of the labours of M. de Thumery. Honestly, now that I think of the matter, I do not trust M. de Sartines a whit. He put us here to keep us out of the way. Well, it seems to me that considering what we have done and what we know, it may be in his interest to keep us here always. Take the rope, M. de Rochefort, use it, follow the dictates of Fate, and don’t forget Ferminard. You will be able to free me, perhaps, once you have gained freedom and the pardon of M. de Choiseul.”
Rochefort said nothing for a moment. He was thinking.
“M. de Rochefort,” went on the other, “the more I consider this matter, the more do I see the pointing of Fate. Take the rope and use it.”
“Very well, then,” said Rochefort. “I will use it for your freedom as well as mine. We will both escape.”