“Let us see!” I said to him at last, “tell me now, my little friend, tell me a little of your history. What the devil have you done to those dogs of lawyers who are there like five bits of a king? It seems that they are mightily angry with you! It’s strange!”
He shrugged his shoulders, inclining his head (with such a gentle look, poor fellow!), and said:
“On my soul! captain, nothing much, after all: three verses of a ballad on the Directory, that’s all.”
“Impossible!!” I said.
“On my soul, yes! The verses weren’t even very good. I was arrested on the 15th of Fructidor and taken to La Force, tried on the 16th, and condemned to death at first, then to transportation as a favour.”
“Strange!” I said. “The Directors are very touchy fellows: for that letter you know of orders me to shoot you.”
He did not answer, and smiled, keeping his countenance pretty well for a young man of nineteen. He only looked at his wife, and wiped his brow, from which drops of sweat were falling. I had as much at least on my face, and drops of another kind in my eyes.
I went on:
“It appears that those citizens didn’t want to do for you on land, they thought that here it wouldn’t be noticed so much. But it’s very distressing for me; for it’s no use your being a good fellow, I cannot get out of it; the sentence of death is there in due form, and the warrant for execution signed, paraphed, and sealed; nothing is wanting.”
He bowed to me very politely, reddening.