Volume III Part 12 (1/2)
”Yes, it must be so.”
”Oh! I forget, while you are out, buy me also a new cap, of plaid velvet, with a ta.s.sel; mine is no longer fit to be worn.”
”Decidedly--you are joking!”
”No, Micou. I want a cap of plaid velvet; it is my notion.”
”But you are determined, then, to make me sleep on straw?”
”Come, Daddy Micou, don't get vexed; it is yes or no; I do not force you.
But enough.”
The receiver, reflecting that he was at the mercy of Nicholas, arose, fearing to be a.s.sailed with new demands if he prolonged his visit.
”You shall have your cap,” said he; ”but take care, if you ask me for anything more, I shall give nothing; happen what may, you will lose as much as I.”
”Be tranquil, Micou; I shall not blackmail you any more than is necessary, for this would be a pity; you pay much heavy postage as it is.”
The receiver went out, shrugging his shoulders with rage, and the warder reconducted Nicholas into the prison. At the moment Micou left, Rigolette entered.
The warder, a man of forty years, an old soldier of energetic appearance, was dressed in a jacket, cap, and trousers of blue cloth; two silver stars were embroidered on the collar and skirts of his coat.
At sight of the grisette, his face brightened up, and a.s.sumed an expression of affectionate benevolence. He had always been struck with the grace, gentility, and touching goodness with which Rigolette consoled Germain when she came to converse with him. Germain, on his part, was no ordinary prisoner. His reserve, his mildness, his sadness, inspired interest in the prison officials; an interest they were careful not to show him, for fear of exposing him to the bad treatment of his vicious companions, who, as we have shown, regarded him with suspicious hatred.
It rained in torrents, but thanks to her overshoes and umbrella, Rigolette had courageously braved the wind and rain.
”What a horrible day, my poor girl!” said the guardian to her, kindly. ”You must have had a good deal of courage to come out such a time as this, at least!”
”When one is thinking all along the way of the pleasure they are going to give a poor prisoner, one does not pay much attention to the weather, sir!”
”I have no need to ask you whom you come to see?”
”Surely not. And how is my poor Germain?”
”My dear, I have seen many prisoners; they were sad, one or two days, but by degrees they fell in with the rest, and the most sorrowful at first often became the most gay. Germain is not so; he appears to grow sadder every day.”
”It is this that troubles me.”
”When I am on service in the yards, I watch him out of the corner of my eye; he is always alone. I have already told you, you should advise him not to act thus, but to speak to his comrades, otherwise he will become their b.u.t.t. The yards are watched, but--a blow is soon struck!”
”Oh, sir! is there still more danger for him?” cried Rigolette.
”Not precisely; but the knaves see he is not one of them, and they hate him because he appears honest and proud.”
”Yet I have advised him to do what you have told me, sir; to endeavor to converse with the least wicked; but it is too much for him; he cannot overcome his repugnance.”
”He is wrong--wrong; a quarrel is soon got up.”
”Can he not be separated from the others?”