ly the idea struck him that the deadly
intentions held toward him were still the same, and that only the mode
of their execution were changed--instead of being assassinated, like
Jeansans-Peur, or the Duc de Guise, he was going to be poisoned, like
the Dauphin, or the Duc de Burgundy. He threw a rapid glance on the two
footmen, and thought he remarked something somber which denoted the
agents of a secret vengeance. From this instant his determination was
taken, and, in spite of the scent of the dishes, which appeared to him
an additional proof, he refused all sustenance, saying majestically that
he was neither hungry nor thirsty.

The footmen looked at each other knowingly. They were two sharp fellows,
and had understood Buvat's character at a glance, and not understanding
a man not being hungry when before a pheasant stuffed with truffles, or
not thirsty before a bottle of Chambertin, had penetrated the prisoner's
fears pretty quickly. They exchanged a few words in a low tone, and the
boldest of the two, seeing that there was a means of drawing some profit
from the circumstances, advanced toward Buvat, who recoiled before him
as far as the room would allow.

"Monsieur," said he, in a reassuring tone, "we understand your fears,
and, as we are honest servants, we will show you that we are incapable
of lending ourselves to the dealings which you suspect; consequently,
during the whole time that you remain here, my comrade and I, each in
our turn, will taste all the dishes which are brought you, and all the
wines which are sent in, happy if by our devotion we can restore your
tranquillity."

"Monsieur," answered Buvat, ashamed that his secret sentiments had been
discovered thus, "monsieur, you are very polite, but in truth I am
neither hungry nor thirsty."

"Never mind, monsieur," said the man, "as my comrade and myself desire
not to leave the smallest doubt on your mind, we will execute what we
have offered. Comtois, my friend," continued the fellow, sitting down in
the place which had been intended for Buvat, "do me the favor to help me
to a little of that soup, a wing of that pullet in rice, a glass of that
Chambertin, there--to your health, monsieur."

"Monsieur," said Buvat, opening his eyes, and looking at the footman who
was dining so impudently in his stead, "monsieur, it is I who am your
servant, and I should wish to know your name, in order to preserve it in
my memory by the side of that of the good jailer w