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"No, no, no," said the landlord; "as you said, he's an aristocrat. He ordered breakfast in his own room." "His room or my room?" asked Montbar; "for I'm certain you put him in that famous No. 1." "Confound it! Monsieur de Jayat, it's your own fault. You told me I could do as I liked." "And you took me at my word; that was right. I shall be satisfied with No. 2." "You'll be very uncomfortable.
The door closed again, the bolts and bars shot into their places. "Well?" cried Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier with one accord. "Here!" replied Morgan, emptying the travelling bag upon the table. The three young men gave a cry of joy as they saw the shining pistols and gleaming blades.
Near him, but further back, Sainte-Hermine, his eyes closed as if in sleep, was lying on the bed. At sight of the young girl, whom they knew to be Amelie, Ribier and Jayat rose. Morgan did not move; he had heard nothing.
"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, springing from his horse, "I claim a place among my three friends, the Vicomte de Jayat, the Comte de Valensolle, and the Marquis de Ribier." The three prisoners gave a cry of admiration and held out their hands to their friend. The two wounded men lifted themselves up on their litters, and murmured: "Well done, Sainte-Hermine, well done!"
Leave those poor young people alone. It would be sacrilege to trouble their last moments together on earth by our presence." Pere Courtois, without a word, opened the door of the adjoining cell. Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier entered it, and the door was closed upon them. Then, making a sign to Charlotte, Courtois himself went away. The lovers were alone.
They declared themselves to be the Baron de Sainte-Hermine, the Comte de Jayat, the Vicomte de Valensolle, and the Marquis de Ribier, and to have no connection with the pillagers of diligences, whose names were Morgan, Montbar, Adler, and d'Assas.
Jayat, who was reading "La Nouvelle Heloise," resumed his book, saying: "Then, I shall not have time to finish M. Jean-Jacques Rousseau's masterpiece, and upon my word I don't regret it, for it is the most utterly false and wearisome book I ever read in my life!" Sainte-Hermine passed his hand over his forehead, murmuring: "Poor Amelie!"
Questioned as to their names, Christian and family, their age, and places of birth, they answered as follows: "Charles de Sainte-Hermine, born at Tours, department of the Indre-et-Loire, aged twenty-four." "Louis-Andre de Jayat, born at Bage-le-Chateau, department of the Ain, aged twenty-nine."
The worthy jailer seemed more grieved and distressed at his second appearance than at his first; but Morgan and Amelie thanked him with a smile. He went to the cell where the others were locked up and opened it, murmuring to himself: "Faith! It would have been hard if they couldn't have been alone together on their last night." Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier returned.
Amelie saw at a glance the whole interior of the cell, and the persons in it. Valensolle was standing, leaning against the wall, and still holding the book from which he had just read the lines that Amelie had overheard. Jayat was seated near a table with his head resting on his hands. Ribier was sitting on the table itself.
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