Volume III Part 14 (1/2)
”Well! there is no more prison for me.”
”How is that?”
”On account of the burglary in an inhabited house, the lawyer told me, 'It's a safe thing.' I shall have fifteen or twenty years at the galleys and a berth in the pillory to boot.”
”The galleys! but you are so weak you will die there!” cried the unhappy woman, bursting into tears.
”How if I had enrolled myself among the white-leaders?”
”But the galleys, oh! the galleys!”
”It is a prison in the open air, with a red cap instead of a brown one, and, besides, I have always been curious to see the ocean. What a starer I am!”
”But the pillory! To be exposed there to the contempt of all the world, oh!
my brother.” And the unfortunate woman began again to weep.
”Come, come, Jeanne, be reasonable. It is a bad quarter of an hour to pa.s.s, but I believe one is seated. And, besides, am I not accustomed to a crowd?
When I played juggler I always had people around me; I will imagine that I am at my old trade, and if it has too much effect upon me I will close my eyes; it will absolutely be the same as if they did not see me.”
Speaking with so much stoicism, this unfortunate man wished less to appear insensible of his criminal actions than to console and satisfy his sister by this apparent indifference. For a man accustomed to prison _manners_, and with whom all shame is necessarily dead--even the galleys were only a change of condition, a ”change of caps,” as Pique-Vinaigre said, with frightful truth.
Many of the prisoners of the central prisons even prefer the galleys on account of the lively, animated life which is led there, committing often attempts at murder to be sent to Brest or Toulon. This can be imagined before they enter the galleys they have almost as much work, according to their declaration. The condition of the most honest workman of the forts is not less rude than that of the convicts. They enter the workshop, and leave it, at the same hour, and the beds on which they repose their limbs, exhausted by fatigue, are often no better than those of the galleys.
They are free, some one will say. Yes, free one day, Sunday, and this is also a day of repose for the convict. But feel they no shame and contempt?
What is shame for these poor wretches, who, each day, bronze the soul in this infamy, in this mutual school of perdition, where the most criminal are the most distinguished? Such are the consequences of the present system of punishment. Incarceration is very much sought after. The galleys--often demanded.
”Twenty years in the galleys!” repeated the poor sister of Pique-Vinaigre.
”But be comforted, Jeanne; they will only pay me in my own coin; I am too feeble to be placed at hard labor. If there is not a manufactory of trumpets and wooden swords, as at Melun, they will give me easy work, and employ me in the infirmary. I am not refractory; I am good-natured. I will tell stories as I do here, I will make myself adored by the keepers, esteemed by my comrades, and I will send you some cocoanuts nicely carved, and some straw boxes for my nephews and nieces; in short. as we make our bed, so must we lie on it!”
”If you had only written that you were coming to Paris, I would have tried to conceal and lodge you while you were waiting for work.”
”I reckoned to go to your house, but I prepared to come with my hands full; for, besides, from your appearance I see that you do not ride in your carriage. How about your children and husband?”
”Do not speak to me about him.”
”Always a rattler, it is a pity, for he is a good workman.”
”He does me much harm--I have had troubles enough of my own, without having yours added to them.”
”How? your husband--”
”Left me three years ago, after having sold all our furniture, leaving me with the children, without any thing, my straw bed excepted.”
”You did not tell me this!”
”For what good? It would have grieved you.”
”Poor Jeanne! How have you managed, all alone with your three children?”