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Updated: June 26, 2025
"What must I do?" replied the young man in a tone of voice which said, better than all protestations could have done, that he was ready to do any thing. "Do you know Trumence?" "The former basket-weaver of Tremblade?" "Exactly." "Upon my word, don't I know him? He has stolen apples enough from me, the scamp! But I don't blame him so much, after all; for he is a good fellow, in spite of that."
He rose as soon as he recognized the gentlemen, and respectfully took off his cap. It was really Trumence; but the good-for-nothing vagrant did not present his usual careless appearance. He looked pale, and was evidently very much excited. "Well," said M. Daubigeon, "so you have allowed yourself to be retaken?" "Beg pardon, judge," replied the poor fellow, "I was not retaken.
At the death of his parents, when he was only eighteen years old, Trumence had come into possession of a house surrounded by a yard, a garden, several acres of land, and a salt meadow; all worth about fifteen thousand francs. Unfortunately the time for the conscription was near.
We were about to carry him back there, when he told us that he had a secret to reveal, a very important, urgent secret, concerning the condemned prisoner, Boiscoran." "Trumence?" "Yes. Then we carried him to the court-house, and I came for orders." "Run and say that I am coming to see him!" cried M. Daubigeon. "Make haste! I am coming after you."
The poor fellow had told his misfortunes to Jacques; and Jacques, who owed it to him that he could, when still in close confinement, correspond with Dionysia, felt very kindly towards him. Hence, when he saw him come up very respectful, and cap in hand, he asked, "What is it, Trumence?" "Sir," replied the vagrant, "M. Blangin sends you word that the two advocates are coming up to your room."
Trumence very quietly drew from his pocket a handful of Napoleons, and of five-and-twenty-franc notes, and showed them. "You see that I had the wherewithal to pay for my room," he said. "But I surrendered, because, after all, I am an honest man, and I would rather suffer some trouble myself than see an innocent gentleman go to the galleys." "M. de Boiscoran?" "Yes. He is innocent!
His unchanging good-humor, and his obliging disposition, explained this forbearance. This man, who would refuse a well-paid job, was ever ready to lend a hand for nothing. And he was handy at every thing, by land and by water, he called it, so that the farmer whose business was pressing, and the fisherman in his boat who wanted help, appealed alike to Trumence.
Having sewed this charm into his waistcoat, Trumence had gone to town, and, plunging his hand boldly into the urn, had drawn number three. This was unexpected. But as he had a great horror of military service, and, well-made as he was, felt quite sure that he would not be rejected, he determined to employ a chance much more certain to succeed; namely, to borrow money in order to buy a substitute.
"But that only lasts a fortnight, and then comes winter. And winter is no man's friend: it's my enemy. I know I have been without a place to lie down when it has been freezing to split stones, and the snow was a foot deep. Oh! here they have stoves, and the Board gives very warm clothes." "Yes; but there are no merry evenings here, Trumence, eh?
Was it not I who opened and locked his door, who took him to the parlor, and brought him back again?" That was the exact truth. "Go on!" said M. Galpin harshly. "Well," said Trumence, "every thing was done as agreed upon. One evening, about nine o'clock, I make my hole in the wall, and here we are, M. Jacques and I, on the ramparts.
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