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Updated: May 3, 2025
The guests of the widow's son were Barbillon, Skeleton, and, upon the latter's recommendation, Pique-Vinaigre, in order to get him in a good humor for telling stories.
The other prisoners remained in the yard; some of them, following the instructions of Barbillon, spoke in a loud, quarrelsome tone, to attract the notice of the keeper, and thus call his attention away from the hall, where were soon assembled Barbillon, Nicholas, Frank, Cardillac, Big Cripple, the Skeleton, and some fifteen other prisoners, all waiting with impatient curiosity until the provost should take the chair.
The provost of the hall was talking with several prisoners, among whom were Barbillon and Nicholas Martial, we repeat. "Are you very sure of what you say?" asked he of Martial. "Yes, yes, a hundred times, yes; Micou had it from Big Cripple, who already wanted to kill the muff, because he betrayed some one." "Then let some one eat his nose, and put a stop to this!" added Barbillon.
I tell you what, it is likely some one has been killed in a dispute, and been buried there so it should not be known." "You are right! for, do you remember, such a thing once liked to have happened?" "When was that?" "You know the time that Barbillon struck the man with the knife the tall man, who is so thin so thin that he shows himself for money?"
Then he added hastily, and in a low tone, as he pretended to stoop for something, "Germain, look at the prisoners, how they stare at us; they are astonished to see us talking together. I leave you; be on your guard. Barbillon is to begin the dispute look out for him; I will try to turn them from this notion." And Pique-Vinaigre lifted up his head as if he had found what he pretended to look for.
"Fifty thousand francs!" cried mother and daughter, their eyes sparkling with cupidity. "Yes, that's all! Bras-Rouge is in the game. Yesterday he decoyed the broker by a letter which Barbillon and I took to her on the Boulevard Saint Denis. Brass-Rouge is a famous fellow! No one suspects him. To make her bite, he has already sold her a diamond for four hundred francs.
"He will do better, for this poor fellow won't dispute; he is one of my kind, bold as a hare." "Yes, it is a pity," said Skeleton; "we reckoned on this quarrel to amuse us after dinner, the time appears so long." "Yes. What shall we do then?" asked Nicholas. "Since it is so, let Pique-Vinaigre tell us a story. I will not seek a quarrel with Germain," said Barbillon.
"So I say," replied Barbillon, boasting in his turn; "they think that I only laid out the milkwoman's husband in the city; but I have served many others out, with Big Robert, who was shortened last year." "It was only to tell you," said Skeleton, "that I neither fear fire nor the devil. But, if I were in a cell, and very sure of not being able to escape thunder! I believe I should be afraid."
"As true as that you are the greatest magsman on the earth, he told me so." "Then it is different," answered Skeleton; "I must make it up with him. Barbillon had a mind to pick a quarrel, but he, too, will do well to let him alone." "He will do better," cried Pique-Vinaigre, persuaded that he had turned away the danger with which Germain was threatened.
At times he almost raised himself from the earth by his convulsive movements. Barbillon, with lowered head, livid face, discolored lips, fixed and savage eye, his long black hair falling on the collar of his blouse, torn in the struggle, was seated on a bench; his arms, confined by handcuffs, rested on his knees. Unmoved, he said not a word.
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