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Updated: June 26, 2025
By to-morrow I shall have gold, or small notes, so you can have your choice." This time Trumence clapped his hands in great joy. "Give me some of one kind, and some of the other," he said, "and I am your man! Hurrah for liberty! Where is that wall that we are to go through?" "I will show you to-morrow; and till then, Trumence, silence."
So I called Trumence, a poor vagrant who assists me in the jail; and we arranged it that one of us would always be on guard, never losing the prisoner out of sight for a moment. But it was a useless precaution. At night, when they carried M. de Boiscoran his supper, he was perfectly calm; and he even said he would try to eat something to keep his strength. Poor man!
Upon Blangin's assurance, he expected the vagabond would jump at the mere idea of escaping from jail. But by no means. Trumence's smiling features grew dark; and, scratching himself behind the ear furiously, he replied, "You see excuse me, I don't want to run away at all." Jacques was amazed. If Trumence refused his cooperation he could not go out, or, at least, he would have to wait.
They will enjoy themselves, and never think of the prisoners. My wife will keep a sharp lookout; and, if any of the rounds should come this way, she would warn you, and quick, quick, you would be back in your room." All was settled; and, as soon as night came, Jacques and Trumence, taking a candle with them, slipped down into the cellar, and went to work.
When the papers were signed, and Trumence had the money in his pocket, he set out for Rochefort, where dealers in substitutes abounded; and for the sum of two thousand francs, exclusive of some smaller items, they furnished him a substitute of the best quality.
Make haste, be careful, and good luck!" After these words he went off rapidly. But Trumence did not march off in the opposite direction, as had been agreed upon. "Anyhow," said the poor vagrant to himself, "this is a curious story about the poor gentleman. Where on earth can he be going?" And, curiosity getting the better of prudence, he followed him.
Here is one who pretends having reached Sauveterre only this morning, and who knows the country as well as Trumence himself. He has not been here twelve hours, and he speaks already of M. de Chandore's little garden-gate." "Oh! I can explain that circumstance now, although, at first, it surprised me very much.
Before Trumence was well aware of what was going on, an execution was in the house; his lands were sold; and one fine day he found himself in the street, possessing literally nothing in the world but the wretched clothes on his back. He might easily have found employment; for he was a good workman, and people were fond of him in spite of all.
The valet who showed the doctor out helped him look for his money; and, as they sought with the candle, they saw the footprints of a man who wore iron-shod shoes." "The marks of my shoes!" broke in Trumence again; and sitting down, and raising his legs, he said to the magistrate, "Just look at my shoes, and you will see there is no lack of iron nails!"
The mischief, however, is, that this life of rural beggary, if it has its good days, also has its evil times. On certain days, Trumence could not find either kind-hearted topers or hospitable housewives. Hunger, however, was ever on hand; then he had to become a marauder; dig some potatoes, and cook them in a corner of a wood, or pilfer the orchards.
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