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 a.s.surances 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 paid Blangin so far?"

"Seventeen thousand francs."

"These people are robbing you outrageously."

"Ah, what does the money matter? I wish we were both of us ruined, if you were but free."

But it had not taken the wife long to persuade the husband. Blangin's heavy steps were heard in the pa.s.sage; and almost immediately, he entered, cap in hand, looking obsequious and restless.

"My wife has told me every thing," he said, "and I consent. Only we must understand each other. This is no trifle you are asking for."

Jacques interrupted him, and said,--

"Let us not exaggerate the matter. I do not mean to escape: I only want to leave for a time. I shall come back, I give you my word of honor."

"Upon my life, that is not what troubles me. If the question was only to let you run off altogether, I should open the doors wide, and say, 'Good-by!' A prisoner who runs away--that happens every day; but a prisoner who leaves for a few hours, and comes back again--Suppose anybody were to see you in town? Or if any one came and wanted to see you while you are gone? Or if they saw you come back again? What should I say? I am quite ready to be turned off for negligence. I have been paid for that. But to be tried as an accomplice, and to be put into jail myself. Stop! That is not what I mean to do."

This was evidently but a preface.

"Oh! why lose so many words?" asked Dionysia. "Explain yourself clearly."

"Well, M. de Boiscoran cannot leave by the gate. At tattoo, at eight o'clock, the soldiers on guard at this season of the year go inside the prison, and until _reveille_ in the morning, or, in others words, till five o'clock, I can neither open nor shut the gates without calling the sergeant in command of the post."

"Did he want to extort more money? Did he make the difficulties out greater than they really were?"

"After all," said Jacques, "if you consent, there must be a way."

The jailer could dissemble no longer: he came out with it bluntly.

"If the thing is to be done, you must get out as if you were escaping in good earnest. The wall between the two towers is, to my knowledge, at one place not over two feet thick; and on the other side, where there are nothing but bare grounds and the old ramparts, they never put a sentinel. I will get you a crowbar and a pickaxe, and you make a hole in the wall."

Jacques shrugged his shoulders.

"And the next day," he said, "when I am back, how will you explain that hole?"

Blangin smiled.

"Be sure," he replied, "I won't say the rats did it. I have thought of that too. At the same time with you, another prisoner will run off, who will not come back."

"What prisoner?"

"Trumence, to be sure. He will be delighted to get away, and he will help you in making the hole in the wall. You must make your bargain with him, but, of course, without letting him know that I know any thing. In this way, happen what may, I shall not be in danger."

The plan was really a good one; only Blangin ought not to have claimed the honor of inventing it: the idea came from his wife.

"Well," replied Jacques, "that is settled. Get me the pickaxe and the crowbar, show me the place where we must make the hole, and I will take charge of Trumence. To-morrow you shall have the money."

He was on the point of following the jailer, when Dionysia held him back; and, lifting up her beautiful eyes to him, she said in a tremor,--

"You see, Jacques, I have not hesitated to dare every thing in order to procure you a few house of liberty. May I not know what you are going to do in that time?"

And, as he made no reply, she repeated,--

"Where are you going?"

A rush of blood colored the face of the unfortunate man; and he said in an embarra.s.sed voice,--

"I beseech you, Dionysia, do not insist upon my telling you. Permit me to keep this secret, the only one I have ever kept from you."

Two tears trembled for a moment in the long lashes of the young girl, and then silently rolled down her cheeks.

"I understand you," she stammered. "I understand but too well. Although I know so little of life, I had a presentiment, as soon as I saw that they were hiding something from me. Now I cannot doubt any longer. You will go to see a woman to-morrow"--

"Dionysia," Jacques said with folded hands,--"Dionysia, I beseech you!"

She did not hear him. Gently shaking her heard, she went on,--

"A woman whom you have loved, or whom you love still, at whose feet you have probably murmured the same words which you whispered at my feet.

How could you think of her in the midst of all your anxieties? She cannot love you, I am sure. Why did she not come to you when she found that you were in prison, and falsely accused of an abominable crime?"

Jacques cold bear it no longer.