Philippe was not cold; he was bathed in sweat, trembling lest he should be required to answer any further questions. So far the brief information he had extracted the day before from a Jew, whose life he had once saved, had proved sufficient, thanks to his good memory, and to the Jew's thorough knowledge of the money-lender's manners and habits. But the young gentleman who, in the first flush of enterprise, had been full of confidence, now began to perceive the many difficulties of the business. The terrible Fleming's solemn gravity and perfect coolness were telling on him. And besides, he felt himself under lock and key, and could picture all the Provost's cords at Maître Cornélius' command.
"Have you supped?" said the miser, in a tone which plainly meant "Do not sup."
In spite of her brother's tone the old woman was startled; she looked at their young inmate as if to gauge the capacity of the stomach she would be expected to fill, and then said with a false smile:
"You have not got your name for nothing, for your hair and moustache are blacker than the devil's tail."
"I have supped," replied he.
"Very well," said the miser; "then come to see me again to-morrow. I have long been accustomed to dispense with the services of an apprentice. Besides, the night brings good counsel."
"Nay, by Saint-Bavon! monsieur, I am from Flanders. I know nobody here, the chains are up. I shall be cast into prison. However," he added, frightened at the eagerness with which he had spoken, "of course, if it suits your convenience, I will go."
The oath had a strange effect on the old Fleming.
"Well, well. By Saint-Bavon! you shall sleep here."
"But——" his sister began in dismay.