Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [219]
cried Jacques Collin. "To be mixed up with such creatures, the dregs of society--felons and murders!--But God will not desert His servant! My dear sir, my stay here shall be marked by deeds of charity which shall live in men's memories. I will convert these unhappy creatures, they shall learn they have souls, that life eternal awaits them, and that though they have lost all on earth, they still may win heaven--Heaven which they may purchase by true and genuine repentance."
Twenty or thirty prisoners had gathered in a group behind the three terrible convicts, whose ferocious looks had kept a space of three feet between them and their inquisitive companions, and they heard this address, spoken with evangelical unction.
"Ay, Monsieur Gault," said the formidable la Pouraille, "we will listen to what this one may say----"
"I have been told," Jacques Collin went on, "that there is in this prison a man condemned to death."
"The rejection of his appeal is at this moment being read to him," said Monsieur Gault.
"I do not know what that means," said Jacques Collin, artlessly looking about him.
"Golly, what a flat!" said the young fellow, who, a few minutes since, had asked Fil-de-Soie about the beans on the hulks.
"Why, it means that he is to be scragged to-day or to-morrow."
"Scragged?" asked Jacques Collin, whose air of innocence and ignorance filled his three pals with admiration.
"In their slang," said the governor, "that means that he will suffer the penalty of death. If the clerk is reading the appeal, the executioner will no doubt have orders for the execution. The unhappy man has persistently refused the offices of the chaplain."
"Ah! Monsieur le Directeaur, this is a soul to save!" cried Jacques Collin, and the sacrilegious wretch clasped his hands with the expression of a despairing lover, which to the watchful governor seemed nothing less than divine fervor. "Ah, monsieur," Trompe-la-Mort went on, "let me prove to you what I am, and how much I can do, by allowing me to incite that hardened heart to repentance. God has given me a power of speech which produces great changes. I crush men's hearts; I open them.--What are you afraid of? Send me with an escort of gendarmes, of turnkeys--whom you will."
"I will inquire whether the prison chaplain will allow you to take his place," said Monsieur Gault.
And the governor withdrew, struck by the expression, perfectly indifferent, though inquisitive, with which the convicts and the prisoners on remand stared at this priest, whose unctuous tones lent a charm to his half-French, half-Spanish lingo.
"How did you come in here, Monsieur l'Abbe?" asked the youth who had questioned Fil-de-Soie.
"Oh, by a mistake!" replied Jacques Collin, eyeing the young gentleman from head to foot. "I was found in the house of a courtesan who had died, and was immediately robbed. It was proved that she had killed herself, and the thieves--probably the servants--have not yet been caught."
"And it was for that theft that your young man hanged himself?"
"The poor boy, no doubt, could not endure the thought of being blighted by his unjust imprisonment," said Trompe-la-Mort, raising his eyes to heaven.
"Ay," said the young man; "they were coming to set him free just when he had killed himself. What bad luck!"
"Only innocent souls can be thus worked on by their imagination," said Jacques Collin. "For, observe, he was the loser by the theft."
"How much money was it?" asked Fil-de-Soie, the deep and cunning.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand francs," said Jacques Collin blandly.
The three convicts looked at each other and withdrew from the group that had gathered round the sham priest.
"He screwed the moll's place himself!" said Fil-de-Soie in a whisper to le Biffon, "and they want to put us in a blue funk for our cartwheels" (thunes de balles, five-franc pieces).
"He will always be the boss of the swells," replied la Pouraille. "Our pieces are safe enough."
La Pouraille, wishing to find some man he could trust, had an interest in considering
Twenty or thirty prisoners had gathered in a group behind the three terrible convicts, whose ferocious looks had kept a space of three feet between them and their inquisitive companions, and they heard this address, spoken with evangelical unction.
"Ay, Monsieur Gault," said the formidable la Pouraille, "we will listen to what this one may say----"
"I have been told," Jacques Collin went on, "that there is in this prison a man condemned to death."
"The rejection of his appeal is at this moment being read to him," said Monsieur Gault.
"I do not know what that means," said Jacques Collin, artlessly looking about him.
"Golly, what a flat!" said the young fellow, who, a few minutes since, had asked Fil-de-Soie about the beans on the hulks.
"Why, it means that he is to be scragged to-day or to-morrow."
"Scragged?" asked Jacques Collin, whose air of innocence and ignorance filled his three pals with admiration.
"In their slang," said the governor, "that means that he will suffer the penalty of death. If the clerk is reading the appeal, the executioner will no doubt have orders for the execution. The unhappy man has persistently refused the offices of the chaplain."
"Ah! Monsieur le Directeaur, this is a soul to save!" cried Jacques Collin, and the sacrilegious wretch clasped his hands with the expression of a despairing lover, which to the watchful governor seemed nothing less than divine fervor. "Ah, monsieur," Trompe-la-Mort went on, "let me prove to you what I am, and how much I can do, by allowing me to incite that hardened heart to repentance. God has given me a power of speech which produces great changes. I crush men's hearts; I open them.--What are you afraid of? Send me with an escort of gendarmes, of turnkeys--whom you will."
"I will inquire whether the prison chaplain will allow you to take his place," said Monsieur Gault.
And the governor withdrew, struck by the expression, perfectly indifferent, though inquisitive, with which the convicts and the prisoners on remand stared at this priest, whose unctuous tones lent a charm to his half-French, half-Spanish lingo.
"How did you come in here, Monsieur l'Abbe?" asked the youth who had questioned Fil-de-Soie.
"Oh, by a mistake!" replied Jacques Collin, eyeing the young gentleman from head to foot. "I was found in the house of a courtesan who had died, and was immediately robbed. It was proved that she had killed herself, and the thieves--probably the servants--have not yet been caught."
"And it was for that theft that your young man hanged himself?"
"The poor boy, no doubt, could not endure the thought of being blighted by his unjust imprisonment," said Trompe-la-Mort, raising his eyes to heaven.
"Ay," said the young man; "they were coming to set him free just when he had killed himself. What bad luck!"
"Only innocent souls can be thus worked on by their imagination," said Jacques Collin. "For, observe, he was the loser by the theft."
"How much money was it?" asked Fil-de-Soie, the deep and cunning.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand francs," said Jacques Collin blandly.
The three convicts looked at each other and withdrew from the group that had gathered round the sham priest.
"He screwed the moll's place himself!" said Fil-de-Soie in a whisper to le Biffon, "and they want to put us in a blue funk for our cartwheels" (thunes de balles, five-franc pieces).
"He will always be the boss of the swells," replied la Pouraille. "Our pieces are safe enough."
La Pouraille, wishing to find some man he could trust, had an interest in considering