"Will be given back to you."
"I didn't mean that," replied Mattia; "but who'll feed her, who'll milk her?"
"Don't worry, youngster," said the prosecutor.
Mattia smiled contentedly.
"Ah, then if they milk our cow," he asked, "may we have some milk for supper?"
"You certainly shall!"
As soon as we were alone I told Mattia the great news that had almost made me forget that we were locked up.
"Mother Barberin is alive, and Barberin has gone to Paris!" I said.
"Ah, then the Prince's cow will make a triumphal entry."
He commenced to dance and sing with joy. Carried away by his gayety, I caught him by the hands, and Capi, who until then had been lying in a corner, quiet and thoughtful, jumped up and took his place between us, standing up on his hind paws. We then threw ourselves into such a wild dance that the jailer rushed in to see what was the matter, probably afraid for his onions. He told us to stop, but he spoke very differently to what he had before. By that, I felt that we were not in a very serious plight. I had further proof of this when a moment later he came in carrying a big bowl of milk, our cow's milk. And that was not all. He brought a large piece of white bread and some cold veal, which he said the prosecutor had sent us. Decidedly, prisons were not so bad after all; dinner and lodging for nothing!