"Dear me, how shocking! But you, brother, do not mean to take any part
in it, I hope?"

"No, thank you, I am not such a fool; I should be sure to catch some of
the good things intended for another. All I know about it I picked up
while going to and fro. I heard them talking among themselves of gagging
him to hinder him from crying out, and in order to prevent any one from
seeing what is going on they mean to form a circle around him, making
believe to be listening to one of their party, who should pretend to be
reading a newspaper or anything they liked out loud."

"But why should they thus ill-treat the poor man?"

"Because, as he is always alone, never speaks to any person, and seems
to hold everybody in disgust, they have taken it into their heads he is
a spy, which is immensely stupid on their parts, because a spy would
naturally hook on with them the better to find out all they said and
did; but I believe that the principal cause of their spite against him
is that he has the air of a gentleman, which is a thing they hold in
abhorrence. It is the captain of the dormitory, who is known by the name
of the Walking Skeleton, who is at the head of this plot; and he is like
a wild beast after this Germain, for so the object of their dislike is
called. But let them all do as they like; it is no affair of mine. I can
be of no use, therefore let them go their own way. But then you see,
Jeanne, it is of no use being dull and mopish in prison, or the others
are sure to suspect you of something or other. They never had to find
fault with my want of sociability, and for that reason never suspected
me or owed me a grudge. But come, my girl, you had better return home;
we have gossiped long enough. I know very well how it takes up your time
to come hither. I have nothing to do but to idle away my days; it is
very different with you; so good night. Come and see me again when you
can; you know how happy it always makes me."

"Nay, but, brother, pray do not go yet; I wish you to stay."

"Nonsense, Jeanne; your children are wanting you at home. I say--I hope
you have not told the poor, dear, little innocent things that their
'nunky' is in prison?"

"No, indeed, I have not; the children believe you are abroad, and as
such I can always talk to them of you."

"That's all right. Now then, be off, and get back to your family and
your employment as fast as you can."

"But listen to me, brother,--my poor Fortune. I have not much to