isoner felt vaguely suspicious as to this state of affairs. He
began to wonder whether the Commandant had not laid a trap for him--but
if so, why? Torn by doubts, he almost resolved to postpone the attempt
till another night. At any rate, he would wait for the first gleam of
day, when it would still not be impossible to escape. His great strength
enabled him to climb up again to his window; still, he was almost
exhausted by the time he gained the sill, where he crouched on the
lookout, exactly like a cat on the parapet of a gutter. Before long, by
the pale light of dawn, he perceived as he waved the rope that there
was a little interval of a hundred feet between the lowest knot and the
pointed rocks below.

"'Thank you, my friend, the Governor!' said he, with characteristic
coolness. Then, after a brief meditation on this skilfully-planned
revenge, he thought it wise to return to his cell.

"He laid his outer clothes conspicuously on the bed, left the rope
outside to make it seem that he had fallen, and hid himself behind the
door to await the arrival of the treacherous turnkey, arming himself
with one of the iron bars he had filed out. The jailer, who returned
rather earlier than usual to secure the dead man's leavings, opened the
door, whistling as he came in; but when he was at arm's length, Beauvoir
hit him such a tremendous blow on the head that the wretch fell in a
heap without a cry; the bar had cracked his skull.

"The Chevalier hastily stripped him and put on his clothes, mimicked his
walk, and, thanks to the early hour and the undoubting confidence of the
warders of the great gate, he walked out and away."

It did not seem to strike either the lawyer or Madame de la Baudraye
that there was in this narrative the least allusion that should apply
to them. Those in the little plot looked inquiringly at each other,
evidently surprised at the perfect coolness of the two supposed lovers.

"Oh! I can tell you a better story than that," said Bianchon.

"Let us hear," said the audience, at a sign from Lousteau, conveying
that Bianchon had a reputation as a story-teller.

Among the stock of narratives he had in store, for every clever man
has a fund of anecdotes as Madame de la Baudraye had a collection of
phrases, the doctor chose that which is known as _La Grande Breteche_,
and is so famous indeed, that it was put on the stage at the
_Gymnase-Dramatique_ under the title of _Valentine_. So it is not
necessary to