'For an assassination,' replied the old man, lowering his voice, but with marked emphasis; 'for an assassination, committed upon the person of a tax-gatherer, from whom you expected to get what he had received, but which, happily for you, he chanced not to have about his person at the time. I say happily for you, for the robbery not having been committed, and the premeditation not proven before the jury, you were only sentenced to the galleys. At Toulon your good conduct gained you a commutation of punishment, and instead of finishing your days in confinement, you were set free at the end of ten years. You see I am well informed.'
'Ah! old fox!' thought Baptiste Leroux, alias Durand, alias Lejeune, alias Bonnemain, 'if you and I were alone in some dark wood, your business should soon be done for you, old fellow!'
Monsieur Gorsay seemed to divine the sanguinary thoughts of the man, for he cast his eyes with an uneasy look toward the window. He was reässured, however, by the presence of some men who were working in the garden at a short distance. In broad day, in his own house, and within reach of such assistance, he felt that he had nothing to fear from the fury with which the convict seemed filled, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal it. He therefore continued the conversation, but it was rather with the familiarity of a friendly counsellor, than the severity of a vindictive judge.
'Hitherto,' said he, 'you have experienced nothing but misfortune; you have passed ten years in the galleys for a murder by which you gained nothing; and here you are on the point of going back again for life, for stealing a paltry watch, worth perhaps twenty francs.'
'It was not worth ten!' answered Bonnemain, who instantly bit his lips till the blood sprang from them.
'Ten or twenty,' replied the old man, with an ironical smile, 'it matters little; the main point is, that the robbery can be proved. Indeed, it is so now, by your own confession. I shall be obliged to have you arrested.'
'You will then arrest an innocent man,' said the convict, losing in spite of himself somewhat of his assurance.
Monsieur Gorsay bent down his head, and remained for some time with downcast eyes; raising them at length, he fixed upon Bonnemain a look which seemed as if it would pierce the inmost recesses of a soul degraded by habitual vice. 'Suppose,' said he to him, 'that instead of giving you up to justice, I should furnish you with the means of repairing to Bordeaux, and from thence of embarking for a foreign port; St. Sebastian, or Bilboa, for instance; suppose farther, that not content with saving you, I should remit you a sum of money sufficient to set up an establishment somewhere out of France, which would place you beyond the reach of want; ten thousand francs, for instance. What would you think of such a proposal?'
All the emotion evinced by the galley-slave at this munificent and unlooked-for proposition, was an almost imperceptible movement of the lips. With the sagacity of that class of persons who gain their livelihood by a criminal and not always bloodless industry, he comprehended in an instant that a bargain and not a deed of benevolence was in the wind. This conviction at once restored all his wonted audacity; for to bargain with a superior is for the time to become his equal.
'What should I think, Monsieur Gorsay?' replied he, after seeming to reflect for a little while; 'by my faith! I should say, 'Bonnemain, it is not for your beautiful eyes that ten thousand francs are offered you. In truth, somebody has need of you for a job that is worth the money. Egad! a fine pour boire is ten thousand francs!'