"But how, or why, mon ami?"
"I do not know. I suffer."
"Rouse up a bit. Why didst chance to come here? I asked thee that before. If thou canst get out, go at once. Thou art not fit to be in this place. This devil of a marquis excites thee. To be a spy thou shouldst be ashamed. Canst thou really get out when it pleases thee to go?"
"Why not?" said Pierre, in alarm. "Dost thou think they will not let me go? I did not want to be a spy, but I was half starved. All I could get I sent to keep my—his poor little hunchback. Vadier lent me some money. I kept none, not a sou. I asked him to let me come here as a spy. They say my reports are useless. I can't help that. I will go out. I want to see that man suffer; I want to see him afraid. He is not afraid. Dost thou think he is afraid?"
"No."
For a moment there was a pause, when Pierre, in a quiet, childlike manner, said: "Dost thou think he ever will be afraid?"
"No, Pierre; he never will be. What a fool thou art to have come here! 'T is not so easy to get out."
"Mon Dieu! don't say that. I—they said—"
"Dost thou believe a Jacobin—and Vadier, the beast, of all men?"
"Hush!" said Pierre, looking about him suspiciously. "I must go—I must go. I must walk; I cannot keep still."