“How people have misrepresented you to me!” said Rubaut, bustling about the cell, and opening the door to call Bellines. “They told me you were very silent—rarely spoke.”
“That was true when my duty was to think,” said Toussaint. “To-day my duty has been to speak. Remember that yours, in fidelity to your ruler, is to repeat to him what I say.”
“More wood, Bellines,” said Rubaut, going to the door, to give further directions in a low voice. Returning, he said, with some hurry of manner, that, as he was to be absent for two or three days, he had sent for such a supply of wood and flambeaux as might last some time. More books should also be brought.
“When shall we meet again?” asked Toussaint.
“I don’t know. Indeed I do not know,” said the Commandant, looking at his watch by the firelight. His prisoner saw that his hands trembled, and that he walked with some irresolution to the door.
“Au revoir!” said Toussaint.
Rubaut did not reply, but went out, leaving the door standing wide, and apparently no one to guard it.
Toussaint’s heart beat at the thought that this might give him one more opportunity of being abroad in the daylight, perhaps in the sun! He rose to make the attempt; but he was exhausted by the conversation he had held—the first for so long! His aching limbs failed him; and he sank down on his bed, from which he did not rise till long after Bellines had laid down his loads, and left the place.
The prisoner rose, at length, to walk, as he did many times in the day, from corner to corner of his cell. At the first turn, by the door, he struck his foot against something which he upset. It was a pitcher of water, which, with a loaf of bread, had been put in that unusual place. The sight was as distinct in its signification as a yawning grave. His door was to open upon him no more. He was not again to see a human face. The Commandant was to be absent awhile, and, on returning, to find his prisoner dead.
He used all means that he could devise to ascertain whether it were indeed so. He called Bellines from the door, in the way which Bellines had never failed to reply to since the departure of Mars Plaisir. Bellines did not come. He sang aloud, as he had never before been allowed to sing unchecked, since he entered the fortress. He now sang unchecked. The hour of the afternoon meal passed, and no one came. The evening closed, and no bolt had been drawn. The case was clear.