"The Citoyen Dossonville to the bar! The Citoyen Dos-son-ville!"
The call, resounding along the stone corridors, reached the prisoners huddled in the main hall of the Abbaye.
"The Citoyen Dos-son-ville!"
A turnkey under a snarling torch penetrated the group, drawing one after another to him with rough hand.
"The Citoyen Dossonville! I summon all on peril of their lives to discover to me the Citoyen Dossonville!"
Out of the mass extended a hand with long, accusing forefinger, and a voice exclaimed:
"Over there."
The hand was snatched back, while a fomenting in the crowd showed where the informer was burying himself from recognition.
The turnkey stopped before a figure stretched in sleep, and incredulously thrust his torch into the face. But the sleeper continued to inhale long breaths methodically, until, convinced of the genuineness of the sleep, the turnkey proceeded to wake him with a vigorous thrust of his foot.
Dossonville started to a sitting position, opening his eyes on the suspicious visage above him and the background of fellow-prisoners who, afraid to show too much interest, held themselves at a distance and followed from the corners of their eyes.