Within an Inch of His Life by Emile Gaboriau (good summer reads .TXT) 📖

her tell. I will not be disgraced. I am innocent, I will not go to the galleys!”

To try and make Jacques listen to reason would have been madness just now.

“Have a care,” said the young lawyer. “Our defence is difficult enough already; do not make it still more so.”

“I shall be careful.”

“A scene might ruin us irrevocably.”

“Be not afraid!”

M. Folgat said nothing more. He thought he could guess by what means Jacques would try to get out of prison. But he did not ask him about the details, because his position as his counsel made it his duty not to know, or, at least, to seem not to know, certain things.

“Now, my dear sir,” said the prisoner, “you will render me a service, will you not?”

“What is it?”

“I want to know as accurately as possible how the house in which the countess lives is arranged.”

Without saying a word, M. Folgat took out a sheet of paper, and drew on it a plan of the house, as far as he knew,—of the garden, the entrance-hall, and the sitting-room.

“And the count’s room,” asked Jacques, “where is that?”

“In the upper story.”

“You are sure he cannot get up?”

“Dr. Seignebos told me so.”

The prisoner seemed to be delighted.

“Then all is right,” he said, “and I have only to ask you, my dear counsel, to tell Miss Dionysia that I must see her to-day, as soon as possible. I wish her to come accompanied by one of her aunts only. And, I beseech you, make haste.”

M. Folgat did hasten; so that, twenty minutes later, he was at the young lady’s house. She was in her chamber. He sent word to her that he wished to see her; and, as soon as she heard that Jacques wanted her, she said simply,—

“I am ready to go.”

And, calling one of the Misses Lavarande, she told her,—

“Come, Aunt Elizabeth, be quick. Take your hat and your shawl. I am going out, and you are going with me.”

The prisoner counted so fully upon the promptness of his betrothed, that he had already gone down into the parlor when she arrived at the prison, quite out of breath from having walked so fast. He took her hands, and, pressing them to his lips, he said,—

“Oh, my darling! how shall I ever thank you for your sublime fidelity in my misfortune? If I escape, my whole life will not suffice to prove my gratitude.”

But he tried to master his emotion, and turning to Aunt Elizabeth, he said,—

“Will you pardon me if I beg you to render me once more the service you have done me before? It is all important that no one should hear what I am going to say to Dionysia. I know I am watched.”

Accustomed to passive obedience, the good lady left the room without daring to make the slightest remark, and went to keep watch in the passage. Dionysia was very much surprised; but Jacques did not give her time to utter a word. He said at once,—

“You told me in this very place, that, if I wished to escape, Blangin would furnish me the means, did you not?”

The young girl drew back, and stammered with an air of utter bewilderment,—

“You do not want to flee?”

“Never! Under no circumstances! But you ought to remember, that, while resisting all your arguments, I told you, that perhaps, some day or other, I might require a few hours of liberty.”

“I remember.”

“I begged you to sound the jailer on that point.”

“I did so. For money he will always be ready to do your bidding.”

Jacques seemed to breathe more freely.

“Well, then,” he said again, “the time has come. To-morrow I shall have to be away all the evening. I shall like to leave about nine; and I shall be back at midnight.”

Dionysia stopped him.

“Wait,” she said; “I want to call Blangin’s wife.”

The household of the jailer of Sauveterre was like many others. The husband was brutal, imperious, and tyrannical: he talked loud and positively, and thus made it appear that he was the master. The wife was humble, submissive, apparently resigned, and always ready to obey; but in reality she ruled by intelligence, as he ruled by main force. When the husband had promised any thing, the consent of the wife had still to be obtained; but, when the wife undertook to do any thing, the husband was bound through her. Dionysia, therefore, knew very well that she would have first to win over the wife. Mrs. Blangin came up in haste, her mouth full of hypocritical assurances of good will, vowing that she was heart and soul at her dear mistress’s command, recalling with delight the happy days when she was in M. de Chandore’s service, and regretting forevermore.

“I know,” the young girl cut her short, “you are attached to me. But listen!”

And then she promptly explained to her what she wanted; while Jacques, standing a little aside in the shade, watched the impression on the woman’s face. Gradually she raised her head; and, when Dionysia had finished, she said in a very different tone,—

“I understand perfectly, and, if I were the master, I should say, ‘All right!’ But Blangin is master of the jail. Well, he is not bad; but he insists upon doing his duty. We have nothing but our place to live upon.”

“Have I not paid you as much as your place is worth?”

“Oh, I know you do not mind paying.”

“You had promised me to speak to your husband about this matter.”

“I have done so; but”—

“I would give as much as I did before.”

“In gold?”

“Well, be it so, in gold.”

A flash of covetousness broke forth from under the thick brows of the jailer’s wife; but, quite self-possessed, she went on,—

“In that case, my man will probably consent. I will go and put him right, and then you can talk to him.”

She went out hastily, and, as soon as she had disappeared, Jacques asked Dionysia,—

“How much have you