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Updated: May 25, 2025
She hoped, she said, her dear young lady would do her the honor to take something. That would strengthen her, and, besides, help her to pass the time; for it was only seven o'clock, and Blangin could not take her to M. de Boiscoran's cell before ten, without great danger. "But I have dined," Dionysia objected. "I do not want any thing." The woman insisted only the more.
"Now we can speak freely. What news do you bring us?" It had just struck eleven o'clock, when the jailer, Blangin, entered Jacques's cell in great excitement, and said, "Sir, your father is down stairs." The prisoner jumped up, thunderstruck.
"I know sixteen thousand francs is a big sum. Perhaps you will be sorry to give us so much money." "I am not sorry at all: I would even add to it willingly." And she showed them one of the other four rolls in her bag. "Then, to be sure, what do I care for my place!" cried Blangin. And, intoxicated by the sight and the touch of the gold, he added,
A flash of covetousness broke forth from under the thick brows of the jailer's wife; but, quite self-possessed, she went on, "In that case, my man will probably consent. I will go and put him right, and then you can talk to him." She went out hastily, and, as soon as she had disappeared, Jacques asked Dionysia, "How much have you paid Blangin so far?" "Seventeen thousand francs."
So late a visit therefore, must needs bring him some unexpected news, his liberty, perhaps, that visitor for whom all prisoners look so anxiously. He started up. As soon as he distinguished in the darkness the jailer's rugged face, he asked eagerly, "Who wants me?" Blangin bowed. He was a polite jailer. Then he replied, "Sir, I bring you a visitor."
"After all we shall see," said M. Galpin, while Blangin was unlocking the door. But he found Jacques as calm as if he had been in his chateau at Boiscoran, haughty and even scornful. It was impossible to get any thing out of him. When he was pressed, he became obstinately silent, or said that he needed time to consider. The magistrate had returned home more troubled than ever.
"In the meantime pray step in here: the parlor is rather damp, and the less you stay in it, the better it will be." Dionysia did so, or rather, she did a great deal more; for, leaving her aunt down stairs, she drew Mrs. Blangin to the upper room, having something to say to her, as she pretended. When they came down again, Blangin told them that M. de Boiscoran was waiting for them.
A few minutes later a rapid step approached in the passage; and Trumence appeared, the prisoner of whom Blangin had made an assistant, and whom Mechinet had employed to carry Jacques's letters to Dionysia. He was a tall well-made man of twenty-five or six years, whose large mouth and small eyes were perpetually laughing. A vagabond without hearth or home, Trumence had once been a land-owner.
He had heard steps and voices, and he had just risen. Blangin, therefore, opened the door; and at once M. Magloire said the prisoner, "I bring you reenforcements, M. Folgat, my colleague, who has come down from Paris, with your mother." Coolly, and without saying a word, M. de Boiscoran bowed. "I see you are angry with me," continued M. Magloire. "I was too quick yesterday, much too quick."
When the interview is over, you come back into the little room, where a bed will be ready for you, and you spend the night there; for this is the hardest part of it: you cannot leave the prison till next day." This was certainly terrible; still, after a moment's reflection, Dionysia said, "Never mind! I accept. Tell Blangin, M. Mechinet, that it is all right."
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