On the following night the inspector, Monsieur D——, went his rounds as usual. Claude, who had perceived him from the distance, rose, and hastened to raise his woolen cap and button his gray woolen vest to the throat—considered a mark of respect to superiors in prison discipline.
“Sir,” said Claude, as the inspector was about to pass him, “has Albin really been quartered elsewhere?”
“Yes,” replied the inspector.
“Sir, I can not live without him. You know the rations are insufficient for me, and Albin divided his portion with me. Could you not manage to let him resume his old place near me?”
“Impossible; the order can not be revoked.”
“By whom was it given?”
“By me.”
“Monsieur D——,” replied Claude, “on you my life depends.”
“I never cancel an order once given.”
“Sir, what have I ever done to you?”