the stairs.

He is going to his destruction, thought he. Three stories. I have time!

And, pushing open the door, he entered the room, pale as death, where he
saw the landlord and the servant stupefied in a corner, while the
Auvergnat, on his knees, in the disordered heap of clothes, was kissing
the pieces of gold.

"Enough of this," he said, in a thick voice; "I took the money, and put
it in my comrade's trunk. But that is too bad. I am a thief, but not a
Judas. Call the police; I will not try to escape, only I must say a word
to Savinien in private. Here he is."

In fact, the little Limousin had just arrived, and seeing his crime
discovered, believing himself lost, he stood there, his eyes fixed, his
arms hanging.

Jean Francois seized him forcibly by the neck, as if to embrace him; he
put his mouth close to Savinien's ear, and said to him in a low,
supplicating voice,

"Keep quiet."

Then turning towards the others:

"Leave me alone with him. I tell you I won't go away. Lock us in if you
wish, but leave us alone."

With a commanding gesture he showed them the door. They went out.

[Illustration]

Savinien, broken by grief, was sitting on the bed, and lowered his eyes
without understanding anything.

"Listen," said Jean Francois, who came and took him by the hands. "I
understand! You have stolen three gold pieces to buy some trifle for a
girl. That costs six months in prison. But one only comes out from there
to go back again, and you will become a pillar of police courts and
tribunals. I understand it. I have been seven years at the Reform
School, a year at Sainte Pelagie, three years at Poissy, five years at
Toulon. Now, don't be afraid. Everything is arranged. I have taken it on
my shoulders."

"It is dreadful," said Savinien; but hope was springing up again in his
cowardly heart.

"When the elder brother is under the flag, the younger one does not go,"
replied Jean Francois. "I am your substitute, that's all. You care for
me a little, do you not? I am paid. Don't be childish--don't refuse.
They would have taken me again one of these days, for I am a runaway
from exile. And then, do you see, that life will be less hard for me
than for you. I know it all, and I shall not complain if I have not done
you this service for nothing, and if you swear to me that you will never
do it again. Savinien, I have loved you well, and your friendship has
made me happy. It is through it that, since I have known y