ou quitted the reception-room, Rigolette entered
it. The turnkey, a man about forty years of age, an old soldier, with
stern and marked features, was dressed in a round jacket, with a blue
cap and trousers; two silver stars were embroidered on the collar and
facings of his jacket. At the sight of the grisette the face of this man
brightened up, and assumed an expression of benevolence. He had always
been struck by the grace, gentleness, and touching kindness with which
Rigolette consoled Germain when she came there to see him. Germain was,
besides, not an ordinary prisoner; his reserve, his peaceable demeanour,
and his melancholy inspired the persons about the prison with deep
interest,--an interest which they did not manifest, for fear of exposing
him to the ill-treatment of his brutal companions, who, as we have said,
looked upon him with mistrusting hate. It was raining in torrents, but,
thanks to her goloshes and umbrella, Rigolette had boldly faced the wind
and rain.

"What a shocking day, my poor girl!" said the turnkey, kindly. "It
requires a good deal of courage to leave home such weather as this."

"When we think as we come along of the pleasure we shall give a poor
prisoner, we don't think much about the weather, sir."

"I need not ask you whom you have come to see?"

"Certainly not. And how is poor Germain?"

"Why, my dear, I have seen many prisoners; they have been sad for a
day,--two days, perhaps,--and then gradually got into the same way as
the others; and those who were most out of sorts at first often ended
by becoming the merriest of all. But M. Germain, is not one of these, he
has still that melancholy air."

"How sorry I am to hear it!"

"When I'm on duty in the yards, I look at him from the corner of my eye,
he is always alone. I have already told you that you should advise him
not to do so, but to resolve on conversing with the others, or it will
end with his becoming suspected and ill-used by them. We keep a close
look-out, but a mischievous blow is soon given."

"Oh, sir, is there any danger threatens him?" cried Rigolette.

"Not precisely, but these ruffians see that he is not one of them, and
hate him because he has an honest and proud look."

"Yet I advised him to do what you told me, sir, and make up his mind to
talk to some of the least wicked! But he cannot help it, he cannot get
over his repugnance."

"He is wrong--wrong! A struggle is so soon begun."

"Can't he, then, be sep