ook his head in negation.

"Beauvoir was eating his heart out, for death alone could set him
free. One morning the turnkey, whose duty it was to bring him his food,
instead of leaving him when he had given him his meagre pittance, stood
with his arms folded, looking at him with strange meaning. Conversation
between them was brief, and the warder never began it. The Chevalier
was therefore greatly surprised when the man said to him: 'Of course,
monsieur, you know your own business when you insist on being always
called Monsieur Lebrun, or citizen Lebrun. It is no concern of mine;
ascertaining your name is no part of my duty. It is all the same to
me whether you call yourself Peter or Paul. If every man minds his own
business, the cows will not stray. At the same time, _I_ know,' said he,
with a wink, 'that you are Monsieur Charles-Felix-Theodore, Chevalier
de Beauvoir, and cousin to Madame la Duchesse de Maille.--Heh?' he added
after a short silence, during which he looked at his prisoner.

"Beauvoir, seeing that he was safe under lock and key, did not imagine
that his position could be any the worse if his real name were known.

"'Well, and supposing I were the Chevalier de Beauvoir, what should I
gain by that?' said he.

"'Oh, there is everything to be gained by it,' replied the jailer in an
undertone. 'I have been paid to help you to get away; but wait a minute!
If I were suspected in the smallest degree, I should be shot out of
hand. So I have said that I will do no more in the matter than will just
earn the money.--Look here,' said he, taking a small file out of his
pocket, 'this is your key; with this you can cut through one of your
bars. By the Mass, but it will not be any easy job,' he went on,
glancing at the narrow loophole that let daylight into the dungeon.

"It was in a splayed recess under the deep cornice that ran round the
top of the tower, between the brackets that supported the embrasures.

"'Monsieur,' said the man, 'you must take care to saw through the iron
low enough to get your body through.'

"'I will get through, never fear,' said the prisoner.

"'But high enough to leave a stanchion to fasten a cord to,' the warder
went on.

"'And where is the cord?' asked Beauvoir.

"'Here,' said the man, throwing down a knotted rope. 'It is made of
raveled linen, that you may be supposed to have contrived it yourself,
and it is long enough. When you have got to the bottom knot, let
yourself drop gen