not
join in their audacious recklessness, and trembles at their contact.
Thrown into the midst of these miscreants, Nicholas Martial, who had for
a long time, by report, known the prison manners, overcame his weakness,
and wished to appear worthy of a name already celebrated in the annals
of robbery and murder.

Several old offenders had known his father, who had been executed, and
others his brother, who was at the galleys; he was received and
instantly patronised by these veterans in crime with savage interest.
This fraternal reception between murderer and murderer elevated the
widow's son; the praises bestowed on the hereditary infamy of his family
intoxicated him. Soon forgetting, in this horrible mood, the future that
threatened him, he only remembered his past crimes to glory in them, and
elevate himself still higher in the eyes of his companions. The
expression of Nicholas's physiognomy was then as insolent as that of his
visitor was disturbed and alarmed.

This visitor was Daddy Micou, the receiver and lodging-house keeper in
the Passage de la Brasserie, into whose abode Madame de Fermont and her
daughter, victims of Jacques Ferrand's cupidity, had been compelled to
retreat. Father Micou knew the penalties to which he was amenable for
having many a time and oft obtained at low prices the fruits of the
robberies of Nicholas and many others of his stamp. The widow's son
being apprehended, the receiver felt he was almost at the mercy of the
ruffian, who might impeach him as a regular buyer. Although this
accusation could not be supported by flagrant proofs, still it was not
the less dangerous, the less dreaded by Daddy Micou, and he had thus
instantly obeyed the orders which Nicholas had transmitted to him by a
discharged prisoner.

"Ah, ah! how goes it, Daddy Micou?" said the brigand.

"At your service, my good fellow," replied the receiver, eagerly. "As
soon as I saw the person you sent to me, I directly--"

"Oh, you are becoming ceremonious, daddy!" said Nicholas, with
impatience. "Why is this, because I'm in trouble?"

"No, no, my lad,--no, no!" replied the receiver, who was not anxious to
seem on terms of familiarity with this ruffian.

"Come, come, be as familiar as usual, or I shall think you have
forgotten our intimacy, and that would break my heart."

"Well, well," said Micou, with a groan, "I directly went about your
little commissions."

"That's all right, daddy. I knew well enough that you w