But his manner seemed to imply, “It is a pity you will be unable to enjoy it.”
He smiled blandly, and I really thought that he was going to rally me, as you might a young bride on her nuptial morning.
The gendarme in charge of me, an old soldier with several good-conduct stripes, took upon himself to reply.
“Sir,” said he, “you must not talk so loud in the Chamber of Death.”
The architect left the room, but I remained there as dumb as one of the stones that he had been measuring.
CHAPTER XXX.
Then a ridiculous incident occurred. The good old gendarme was relieved, and I, selfish wretch, had not even shaken hands with him. The new sentinel was a man of vulgar features, bull-eyed, with a foolish expression in his face.
I paid no attention to him. I had turned my back to the door, and, seated at the table, was pressing my hand to my forehead. A light tap upon my shoulder caused me to turn my head. The fresh guard and I were alone.
This is something the way in which he began the conversation, “Criminal, have you a kind heart?”
“No,” answered I.