"Have it strong; I have tasted none for so long that it must bite my tongue to make up for lost time. Hurry with thy commissions my good little citizen jailer; the new lodger is hungry, and we, too, have no small appetites."
"Tobacco," said Petitsou, "next to ink and paper, I have longed for that. And I have money, too!" and he produced a five-franc piece. "As good a piece of silver as ever rang from the government mint, and yet that cursed jailer refuses to take it, or bring me the smallest portion of tobacco for it. The donkey fears I have manufactured it here on the premises, or that I extracted it from thin air like a magician."
The breakfast being brought, Tappeur rolled a couple of large stones toward the lightest portion of the cell, and placed a board across them for a table. They had nothing to sit upon but their heels. The two criminals had accustomed themselves to this method of sitting at meals, but Gaillard found it more comfortable to partake of his food standing with his shoulders to the wall.
"Fall to, comrades!" cried Tappeur, breaking off an end of the loaf and taking a sausage in his other hand. "There's no cup, so we must drink from the bottle." And he handed the wine to Gaillard first, by way of attention.
Gaillard put the bottle to his lips and took a long draught of the contents while Tappeur watched him anxiously. He then passed it over to Petitsou, who treated it in a like manner. Tappeur received it in his turn in thankful silence, and after having punished it severely, put it down by his side. Gaillard helped himself to a piece of bread and a sausage, and ate with good appetite, leaving his new companions to finish the wine, to the evident satisfaction of those two worthies.
"You have a hard fist, my brave comrade!" exclaimed Tappeur, filling a pipe as short and grimy as the thumb that pushed the tobacco down into the bowl. "A hard fist and a free purse and Tappeur is your friend for life." To give emphasis to his words he puffed a cloud of blue smoke up into Gaillard's face, and drained the last few drops of wine in the flagon.
"That's very good stuff," he continued, balancing the empty bottle upon its nose, "but brandy would be more satisfying."
Gaillard refused to take the hint, and turned away to spread his cloak in a corner of the cell, where he lay down upon it and was soon in a deep sleep.
Week followed week, and Gaillard continued to live below the ground far from the sunlight which he loved so dearly, while Tournay, confined in the cell upon the second floor, wondered why he received no word from the friend in the outside world.
Thus they lived within one hundred yards of each other, thinking of each other daily, and with no means of communication. One thing Gaillard had to be thankful for, and that was the sum of money the theatre manager had paid him on the very night of his arrest. With it he had purchased many comforts to make his life more bearable. He had procured a fresh supply of straw and a warm blanket for his bed; some candles and a rough chair upon which he took turns in sitting with the two jail-birds, his companions, although at meals he always occupied it by tacit consent.