He opened his dull eyes.
“What is it? what is it? anything that you wish.”
“Instead of three numbers you shall have four. Change clothes with me.”
“Is that all?” exclaimed he, hurriedly unbuttoning his uniform.
I got up from my seat. I watched all his movements—my heart beat; already I saw all doors opening before the uniform of a gendarme, and the Conciergerie left far behind me.
Suddenly he stopped, with an air of hesitation. “Ah! you want to get out of this?”
“Of course,” I replied; “but your fortune is made.”
He interrupted me.
“Ah, no, that will not do; how could the numbers be worth anything if you were not dead?”
I sat down in silence; all hope had fled, and again I was plunged in despair.