have nothing more to ask of me?" said Micou, with
bitterness.

"Yes; say to my mother and sister that, if I was frightened when they
apprehended me, I am no longer so, but as determined as they two are."

"I'll say so. Anything more?"

"Stay another moment or two. I forgot to ask you for a couple of pairs
of warm woollen stockings,--you'd be sorry if I caught cold, shouldn't
you?"

"I should be glad if you were dead."

"Thank ye, daddy, thank ye! But that pleasure is yet to come, and to-day
I'm alive and kicking, and inclined to take things easy. If they serve
me as they did my father, at least I shall have enjoyed my life while it
lasted."

"It's a nice life, yours is!"

"Superb! Since I have been here I've enjoyed myself like a king. If we
had lamps and fireworks, they would have lighted them up, and fired them
off in my honour, when they knew I was the son of the famous Martial who
was guillotined."

"How affecting! What a glorious parentage!"

"Why, d'ye see, there are many dukes and marquises. Why, then, shouldn't
we have our nobility, too?--such as us!" said the ruffian, with bitter
irony.

"To be sure, and Charlot (the headsman) will give you your letters of
nobility on the Place du Palais."

"You may be sure it won't be the gaol chaplain. But in prison we should
have the nobility of top-sawyers (noted robbers) to be thought much of;
if not, you are looked upon as nobody at all. You should only see how
they behave to those who are not tip-tops and give themselves airs. Now
there's in here a chap called Germain, a young fellow, who appears
disgusted with us, and seems to despise us all. Let him take care of his
hide! He's a sulky hound, and they say he is a 'nose' (a spy); if he is,
they'll screw his nose around, just by way of warning."

"Germain? A young man called Germain?"

"Yes; d'ye know him? Is he one of us? If so, in spite of his looks,
we--"

"I don't know him; but if he is the Germain I have heard speak of, his
affair is settled."

"How?"

"Why, he has only just escaped from a plot which Velu and the
Stout-Cripple laid for him lately."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but they said that in the country somewhere he had
tricked one of their pals."

"I was sure of it, Germain is a spy. Well, we'll spy him! I'll go and
tell our friends; that'll set them sharper against him. By the way, how
does Gros-Boiteux get on with your lodgers?"

"Thank heaven, I have got rid of him,--a blackguard!