François stood still, received the second order, and, saying, "Au revoir, citizen," was about to leave, when a thought seemed to strike him. He paused. "There is here a ci-devant marquis you may recall—Ste. Luce."
"Well?"
"Put his name at the foot of the file of the accused and keep it there. Get a clerk to do it. The citizen is aware that it is done every day."
"Impossible! Art thou insane? I run risk enough with thy order and passport. But this I dare not do. There are limits."
"Do it, or I throw up my bargain. By Heaven, I am in earnest! Come, what will it cost? Will one hundred louis d'or do the business?"
Grégoire reflected. What more simple than to say yes, pocket the money, and let things take their course?
"I will do it for that—I mean I can have it done."
"Then give me ten minutes."
"I will wait."
The rich throughout these evil days were allowed to have in prison as much money as they could get from without. About March of this sad year they were told that they must feed the poorer captives, and were regularly assessed. François was aware that the marquis was well provided. He found him in the garden, and asked him to step aside.