It
appears that but for him--"

"I must have been killed. Oh, tell me his name! Who is he?"

"His name I do not know, but they call him the Chourineur; he is an old
offender."

"And is his crime now very serious?"

"Very; burglary in the night in an inhabited house," replied the
turnkey. "He will probably have a similar dose to Pique-Vinaigre,
fifteen or twenty years of hard labour."

Germain shuddered; he would have preferred being bound by gratitude to a
man less criminal.

"How dreadful!" he said. "And yet this man without knowing me defended
me; such courage, such generosity!"

"Ah, these men have sometimes a touch of good! The main point is that
you are saved. To-morrow you will have your private cell, and to-night
you will sleep in the infirmary. So, courage, sir. The bad time is over;
and when your pretty little visitor comes to see you, you can comfort
her, for once in a cell you have nothing to fear; only you will do
wisely, I think, not to tell her of this affair."

"Certainly not; but I should like to thank my defender."

"I have just been leaving the governor, who will now interrogate the
Skeleton, and I shall take them both, the Skeleton to his dungeon
directly, and the Chourineur to the Fosse aux Lions; he will be,
besides, somewhat rewarded for what he has done for you; as he is a
determined and stout fellow, he will probably replace the Skeleton as
captain of the ward."

The Chourineur, having crossed a small passage from the governor's
apartment, entered the room in which Germain was.

"Wait for me here," said the turnkey to the Chourineur. "I will go and
ask the governor what he decides upon as to the Skeleton, and I will
return and let you know. Our young man has quite recovered, and wishes
to thank you, and so he should, for otherwise it would have been all
over with him." And the turnkey went out.

The Chourineur's countenance was very joyous, and he advanced towards
Germain, saying, with a cheerful air:

"Thunder! How glad I am! How glad I saved you!" and he extended his hand
to Germain, who, by a feeling of involuntary repulsion, withdrew
somewhat, instead of taking the hand which the Chourineur offered to
him; then, remembering that he owed his life to this man, he was
desirous of repairing this display of repugnance. But the Chourineur
perceived it; his features became overcast, and, retreating in his turn,
he said, with bitter sorrow, "Oh, it is right; your pardon, sir!"

"No