rembled, as he thought
of some of his first meetings with her, as he saw before his mind's eye
her features swimming in voluptuous languor, as he heard the silvery
ring of her voice, or inhaled the perfume she loved ever to have about
her. She had exposed him to the danger of losing his position, his
future, his honor even; and he still felt inclined to forgive her. But
now she threatened him with the loss of his betrothed, the loss of that
pure and chaste love which burnt in Dionysia's heart, and he could not
endure that.

"I will spare her no longer," he cried, mad with wrath. "I will hesitate
no longer. I have not the right to do so; for I am bound to defend
Dionysia!"

He was more than ever determined to risk that adventure on the next day,
feeling quite sure now that his courage would not fail him.

It was Trumence to-night--perhaps by the jailer's skilful
management--who was ordered to take the prisoner back to his cell, and,
according to the jail-dictionary, to "curl him up" there. He called
him in, and at once plainly told him what he expected him to do. Upon
Blangin's assurance, he expected the vagabond would jump at the mere
idea of escaping from jail. But by no means. Trumence's smiling
features grew dark; and, scratching himself behind the ear furiously, he
replied,--

"You see--excuse me, I don't want to run away at all."

Jacques was amazed. If Trumence refused his cooperation he could not go
out, or, at least, he would have to wait.

"Are you in earnest, Trumence?" he asked.

"Certainly I am, my dear sir. Here, you see, I am not so badly off: I
have a good bed, I have two meals a day, I have nothing to do, and I
pick up now and then, from one man or another, a few cents to buy me a
pinch of tobacco or a glass of wine."

"But your liberty?"

"Well, I shall get that too. I have committed no crime. I may have
gotten over a wall into an orchard; but people are not hanged for that.
I have consulted M. Magloire, and he told me precisely how I stand.
They will try me in a police-court, and they will give me three or four
months. Well, that is not so very bad. But, if I run away, they put the
gendarmes on my track; they bring me back here; and then I know how they
will treat me. Besides, to break jail is a grave offence."

How could he overcome such wise conclusions and such excellent reasons?
Jacques was very much troubled.

"Why should the gendarmes take you again?" he asked.

"Because they are