They guessed, from the fixed look in his eyes, that he saw Lupin, that he felt Lupin’s shadow prowling around and seeking an inlet through which to get to him. And never was anything more touching than the sight of that stripling—clad in the strait-jacket, with his arms and legs bound, guarded by thousands of men—whom the executioner already held in his inexorable hand and who, nevertheless, hoped on.
Anguish wrung the hearts of all the beholders. Their eyes were dimmed with tears:
“Poor little chap!” stammered some one.
Prasville, touched like the rest and thinking of Clarisse, repeated, in a whisper:
“Poor little chap!”
But the hour struck, the preparations were finished. They set out.
The two processions met in the passage. Vaucheray, on seeing Gilbert, snapped out:
“I say, kiddie, the governor’s chucked us!”
And he added a sentence which nobody, save Prasville, was able to understand:
“Expect he prefers to pocket the proceeds of the crystal stopper.”