Certainly a call to the visitors' room had scarcely astonished Andrea less than themselves, for the wily youth, instead of making use of his privilege of waiting to be claimed on his entry into La Force, had maintained a rigid silence.
"Everything," he said, "proves me to be under the protection of some powerful person,--this sudden fortune, the facility with which I have overcome all obstacles, an unexpected family and an illustrious name awarded to me, gold showered down upon me, and the most splendid alliances about to be entered into.
An unhappy lapse of fortune and the absence of my protector have cast me down, certainly, but not forever.
The hand which has retreated for a while will be again stretched forth to save me at the very moment when I shall think myself sinking into the abyss.
Why should I risk an imprudent step?
It might alienate my protector.
He has two means of extricating me from this dilemma,--the one by a mysterious escape, managed through bribery; the other by buying off my judges with gold.
I will say and do nothing until I am convinced that he has quite abandoned me, and then"--
Andrea had formed a plan which was tolerably clever. The unfortunate youth was intrepid in the attack, and rude in the defence.
He had borne with the public prison, and with privations of all sorts; still, by degrees nature, or rather custom, had prevailed, and he suffered from being naked, dirty, and hungry.
It was at this moment of discomfort that the inspector's voice called him to the visiting-room.
Andrea felt his heart leap with joy.
It was too soon for a visit from the examining magistrate, and too late for one from the director of the prison, or the doctor; it must, then, be the visitor he hoped for.
Behind the grating of the room into which Andrea had been led, he saw, while his eyes dilated with surprise, the dark and intelligent face of M. Bertuccio, who was also gazing with sad astonishment upon the iron bars, the bolted doors, and the shadow which moved behind the other grating.
"Ah," said Andrea, deeply affected.
"Good morning, Benedetto," said Bertuccio, with his deep, hollow voice.
"You--you?" said the young man, looking fearfully around him.
"Do you not recognize me, unhappy child?"
"Silence,--be silent!" said Andrea, who knew the delicate sense of hearing possessed by the walls; "for heaven's sake, do not speak so loud!"
"You wish to speak with me alone, do you not?" said Bertuccio.
"Oh, yes."
"That is well."
And Bertuccio, feeling in his pocket, signed to a keeper whom he saw through the window of the wicket.
"Read?" he said.
"What is that?" asked Andrea.
"An order to conduct you to a room, and to leave you there to talk to me."
"Oh," cried Andrea, leaping with joy. Then he mentally added,--"Still my unknown protector!
I am not forgotten.
They wish for secrecy, since we are to converse in a private room.
I understand, Bertuccio has been sent by my protector."
The keeper spoke for a moment with an official, then opened the iron gates and conducted Andrea to a room on the first floor.
The room was whitewashed, as is the custom in prisons, but it looked quite brilliant to a prisoner, though a stove, a bed, a chair, and a table formed the whole of its sumptuous furniture.
Bertuccio sat down upon the chair, Andrea threw himself upon the bed; the keeper retired.
"Now," said the steward, "what have you to tell me?"
"And you?" said Andrea.
"You speak first."
"Oh, no. You must have much to tell me, since you have come to seek me."
"Well, be it so.
You have continued your course of villany; you have robbed--you have assassinated."
"Well, I should say! If you had me taken to a private room only to tell me this, you might have saved yourself the trouble.
I know all these things.
But there are some with which, on the contrary, I am not acquainted.
Let us talk of those, if you please.
Who sent you?"
"Come, come, you are going on quickly, M. Benedetto!"
"Yes, and to the point.
Let us dispense with useless words.
Who sends you?"
"No one."
"How did you know I was in prison?"