"Hush! not so loud; someone will hear us," he said, lowering his voice; "I want you to offer it to Andre as though it came from yourself. He would not accept it from me; he would think I had been depriving myself for him. Let me implore you to do me this service; and for your trouble,"—and here he gently stroked my hand—"for your trouble you shall have a morsel for yourself."
I trembled like a child as I listened to the poor father's words; and my heart was ready to burst when I felt a tiny piece of biscuit slipped into my hand.
"Give it him," M. Letourneur went on under his breath, "give it him; but do not let anyone see you; the monsters would murder you if they knew it! This is only for to-day; I will give you some more to-morrow."
The poor fellow did not trust me—and well he might not—for I had the greatest difficulty to withstand the temptation to carry the biscuit to my mouth. But I resisted the impulse, and those alone who have suffered like me can know what the effort was.
Night came on with the rapidity peculiar to these low latitudes, and I glided gently up to Andre, and slipped the piece of biscuit into his hand as "a present from myself."
The young man clutched at it eagerly.
"But my father?" he said, inquiringly.
I assured him that his father and I had each had our share, and that he must eat this now, and perhaps I should be able to bring him some more another time. Andre asked no more questions, and eagerly devoured the morsel of food.
So this evening at least, notwithstanding M. Letourneur's offer, I have tasted nothing.