The Crystal Stopper [91]
incident of any kind."
"Do your reports mention nothing at all suspicious, monsieur le 5ecretaire-general?"
"Nothing. And they can't mention anything, for the simple reason that we have Lupin."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes, we know his hiding-place. The house where he lives, on the Place de Clichy, and where he went at seven o'clock last night, is surrounded. Moreover, I know the scheme which he had contrived to save his two accomplices. The scheme miscarried at the last moment. We have nothing to fear, therefore. The law will take its course."
Meanwhile, the hour had struck.
They took Vaucheray first; and the governor of the prison ordered the door of his cell to be opened. Vaucheray leapt out of bed and cast eyes dilated with terror upon the men who entered.
"Vaucheray, we have come to tell you... "
"Stow that, stow that," he muttered. "No words. I all about it. Get on with the business."
One would have thought that he was in a hurry for it to be over as fast as possible, so readily did he submit to the usual preparations. But he would not allow any of them to speak to him:
"No words," he repeated. "What? Confess to the priest? Not worth while. I have shed blood. The law sheds my blood. It's the good old rule. We're quits."
Nevertheless, he stopped short for a moment:
"I say, is my mate going through it too?"
And, when he heard that Gilbert would go to the scaffold at the same time as himself, he had two or three seconds of hesitation, glanced at the bystanders, seemed about to speak, was silent and, at last, muttered:
"It's better so.... They'll pull us through together... we'll clink glasses together."
Gilbert was not asleep either, when the men entered his cell.
Sitting on his bed, he listened to the terrible words, tried to stand up, began to tremble frightfully, from head to foot, like a skeleton when shaken, and then fell back, sobbing:
"Oh, my poor mummy, poor mummy1" he stammered.
They tried to question him about that mother, of whom he had never spoken; but his tears were interrupted by a sudden fit of rebellion and he cried:
"I have done no murder... I won't die. I have done no murder... "
"Gilbert," they said, "show yourself a man."
"Yes, yes... but I have done no murder... Why should I die?"
His teeth chattered so loudly that words which he uttered became unintelligible. He let the men do their work, made his confession, heard mass and then, growing calmer and almost docile, with the voice of a little child resigning itself, murmured:
"Tell my mother that I beg her forgiveness."
"Your mother?"
"Yes... Put what I say in the papers... She will understand... And then... "
"What, Gilbert?"
"Well, I want the governor to know that I have not lost confidence."
He gazed at the bystanders, one after the other, as though be entertained the mad hope that "the govermor" was one of them, disguised beyond recognition and ready to carry him off in his arms:
"Yes," he said, gently and with a sort of religious piety, "yes, I still have confidence, even at this moment... Be sure and let him know, won't you?... I am positive that he will not let me die. I am certain of it... "
They guessed, from the fixed look in his eyes, that he saw Lupin, that he felt Lupin's shadow prowling around and seeking an inlet through which to get to him. And never was anything more touching than the sight of that stripling - clad in the strait-jacket, with his arms and legs bound, guarded by thousands of men - whom the executioner already held in his inexorable hand and who, nevertheless, hoped on.
Anguish wrung the hearts of all the beholders. Their eyes were dimmed with tears:
"Poor little chap!" stammered some one.
Prasville, touched like the rest and thinking of Clarisse, repeated, in a whisper:
"Poor little chap!"
But the hour struck, the preparations were finished. They set out.
The two processions met in the passage. Vaurheray, on seeing Gilbert, snapped out:
"I say, kiddie, the governor's chucked us!"
nd he
"Do your reports mention nothing at all suspicious, monsieur le 5ecretaire-general?"
"Nothing. And they can't mention anything, for the simple reason that we have Lupin."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes, we know his hiding-place. The house where he lives, on the Place de Clichy, and where he went at seven o'clock last night, is surrounded. Moreover, I know the scheme which he had contrived to save his two accomplices. The scheme miscarried at the last moment. We have nothing to fear, therefore. The law will take its course."
Meanwhile, the hour had struck.
They took Vaucheray first; and the governor of the prison ordered the door of his cell to be opened. Vaucheray leapt out of bed and cast eyes dilated with terror upon the men who entered.
"Vaucheray, we have come to tell you... "
"Stow that, stow that," he muttered. "No words. I all about it. Get on with the business."
One would have thought that he was in a hurry for it to be over as fast as possible, so readily did he submit to the usual preparations. But he would not allow any of them to speak to him:
"No words," he repeated. "What? Confess to the priest? Not worth while. I have shed blood. The law sheds my blood. It's the good old rule. We're quits."
Nevertheless, he stopped short for a moment:
"I say, is my mate going through it too?"
And, when he heard that Gilbert would go to the scaffold at the same time as himself, he had two or three seconds of hesitation, glanced at the bystanders, seemed about to speak, was silent and, at last, muttered:
"It's better so.... They'll pull us through together... we'll clink glasses together."
Gilbert was not asleep either, when the men entered his cell.
Sitting on his bed, he listened to the terrible words, tried to stand up, began to tremble frightfully, from head to foot, like a skeleton when shaken, and then fell back, sobbing:
"Oh, my poor mummy, poor mummy1" he stammered.
They tried to question him about that mother, of whom he had never spoken; but his tears were interrupted by a sudden fit of rebellion and he cried:
"I have done no murder... I won't die. I have done no murder... "
"Gilbert," they said, "show yourself a man."
"Yes, yes... but I have done no murder... Why should I die?"
His teeth chattered so loudly that words which he uttered became unintelligible. He let the men do their work, made his confession, heard mass and then, growing calmer and almost docile, with the voice of a little child resigning itself, murmured:
"Tell my mother that I beg her forgiveness."
"Your mother?"
"Yes... Put what I say in the papers... She will understand... And then... "
"What, Gilbert?"
"Well, I want the governor to know that I have not lost confidence."
He gazed at the bystanders, one after the other, as though be entertained the mad hope that "the govermor" was one of them, disguised beyond recognition and ready to carry him off in his arms:
"Yes," he said, gently and with a sort of religious piety, "yes, I still have confidence, even at this moment... Be sure and let him know, won't you?... I am positive that he will not let me die. I am certain of it... "
They guessed, from the fixed look in his eyes, that he saw Lupin, that he felt Lupin's shadow prowling around and seeking an inlet through which to get to him. And never was anything more touching than the sight of that stripling - clad in the strait-jacket, with his arms and legs bound, guarded by thousands of men - whom the executioner already held in his inexorable hand and who, nevertheless, hoped on.
Anguish wrung the hearts of all the beholders. Their eyes were dimmed with tears:
"Poor little chap!" stammered some one.
Prasville, touched like the rest and thinking of Clarisse, repeated, in a whisper:
"Poor little chap!"
But the hour struck, the preparations were finished. They set out.
The two processions met in the passage. Vaurheray, on seeing Gilbert, snapped out:
"I say, kiddie, the governor's chucked us!"
nd he