Now the Grand Cophta laid both hands on the child's head and cried in a loud voice, "Open your eyes and look!"
The child turned pale and shuddered as it fixed its gaze on the decanter.
"What do you see?" asked the Grand Cophta, "I want you to look into the prison of General Beauharnais. What do you see?"
"I see a little room," said the child with vivacity. "On a cot lies a young man who sleeps; at his side stands another man, writing on a sheet of paper that lies on a large book."
"Can you read?"
"No, citizen. Now the man cuts off his hair, and folds it in the paper."
"The one who sleeps?"
"No, the one who was just now writing. He is now writing something on the back of the paper in which he wrapped the hair; now he opens a little red pocket-book, and takes papers out of it; they are assignats, he counts them and then puts them back in the pocket-book. Now he rises and walks softly, softly."
"What do you mean by softly? You have not heard the slightest noise as yet, have you?"
"No, but he walks through the room on tiptoe."