"No, but I imagine it must be a curious sight."
"It is. This morning I was in Bicetre to see Benedetto depart, and I must confess I almost pitied him. The handsome Andrea Cavalcanti was undressed and his clothes cut in the usual way."
"Why do they do that?" asked Chateau-Renaud.
"To prevent the flight of a convict. Whoever sees these cut clothes knows they belong to a galley-slave. The other prisoners said nothing while the operation was being performed; Benedetto, however, cried out aloud when the jailer cut his elegant coat, and when the rattle of the chains was heard in another room he gritted his teeth and cast such a look around him that I instinctively shuddered."
"Were you present during the chaining of the convicts, Monsieur Gratillet?"
"Certainly; I never do things by halves. The prisoners were brought into the courtyard and placed in rows of two each, who were tied to each other by a chain six feet long."
"Are you nearly finished with your story, Monsieur Gratillet?" said Beauchamp, thoughtfully.
"Directly. Just as the door opened through which the convicts have to pass to leave the courtyard, I noticed among the crowd assembled to see them off a small humpbacked man. On his crooked shoulders a monkey balanced, a poodle in uniform sat on its hind legs beside him, in his right hand he held a bird-cage, and along his left arm a large rat promenaded up and down. The rat had a wonderfully pointed nose and long tail. It ran up and down the whole time, looking in every direction with its sharp eyes. The prisoners, the jailers and spectators laughed at its antics. The hunchback drew nearer, and, as it seemed to me, looked at Benedetto. The latter, however, did not notice him, and now I perceived I had made a mistake, and that the gaze of the ratcatcher was directed to Benedetto's comrade in chains."
"Did you know this comrade in chains?" asked Beauchamp, hurriedly.
"Yes; it was a former priest named Anselmo, if you have ever heard anything of him."