“You know the way,” said Jacques to his comrade; “take me to the prison. I will ask to speak to the commander, the captain, the governor; in fact, to speak to everybody, if necessary; this honorable decoration will serve as my safe-conduct.” “Look you, I don’t know the prison any better than you do, but I’ll take you to my old friend, who is the messenger to the prisoners; he will tell us how we must go to work to see your brother.” “Very well, let us speak to your friend; I trust that we may find him.” “Yes,” said Sans-Souci; “I see him now, over yonder.” They quickened their pace and accosted the messenger, who recognized his friend, and shook hands with him, asking him what brought him to Paris. “Let us sit down on this stone bench and talk,” said Sans-Souci; “this is my comrade, a fine fellow----” “He has some scars and a bit of ribbon which say enough.--Can I help you in any way, messieurs?” “Yes, we have come on important business--we want to see a prisoner. You know, that Edouard Murville, whom you mentioned to me the last time I saw you; well, my comrade is his brother.” “You are his brother?” said the messenger, looking at Jacques with compassion. “I am sorry for you.” “I am not the one to be sorry for,” said Jacques; “he is the one, since he is unfortunate; for he has not been guilty of any dishonorable act, I trust?” “What have you come here for?” said the messenger, without answering Jacques’s question. “Morbleu! we have come to see my brother; his wife and child have been here already to console him.” “No woman has been here to see him, I assure you; in fact, no woman has attempted to see him.” “Is it possible?” “It would be useless now to try to see him, for--he is no longer at the Conciergerie.” “He isn’t there? Where is he then?” “Why, why--I cannot--tell you exactly.” “What! Damnation! Can’t I find out where my brother is?” “Come, come, my poor Jacques, don’t be discouraged,” said Sans-Souci; “my friend isn’t well posted; we will try to find out something more.” “I tell you again, messieurs, that Edouard Murville is no longer in this prison, and that he must have left Paris before this. Adieu, my good Jacques, take my advice and return to your village; do not try to learn anything more, and forget a brother who is altogether unworthy of you.” The messenger, deeply moved, pressed Jacques’s hand, and turned away from the friends, after saying this. Jacques stood in deep thought; his brow darkened, his glance became more stern. Sans-Souci also was silent; he began to fear that it was not simply for debt that his comrade’s brother had been arrested. The two honest fellows dared not communicate their thoughts to each other, and the darkness surprised them seated on the stone bench and lost in their reflections. “What are we going to do now?” asked Sans-Souci at last; “we are sitting here like two lost sentinels; but we must make up our minds to something.”