“I say! I’m going to be left alone with my wife, am I?” he said; “what a stupid time I shall have!--Here, comrade Jacques, let me give you a little present for your journey; it may be of some use to you; for you don’t know where you may be.” As he spoke, Guillot handed Jacques a pair of small pocket pistols. “I bought them second-hand in the village not long ago, of an old soldier; my idea was to give ’em to you on your birthday, but so long as you’re going away, why take ’em now.” Jacques thanked the honest farmer and accepted his present; then, after embracing everybody, he set forth with Sans-Souci, swearing not to return to the farm without Adeline, and to take no rest until he had found her. XXXII THE GALLEY SLAVES Jacques was not mistaken when he thought he saw his brother among the convicts. The unhappy Edouard had undergone his punishment for the crime which he had allowed himself to be led into committing. His sentence condemned him to twenty years hard labor, to be branded and exposed to public view. Lampin, who had already been in prison for theft, was sentenced to the galleys for life. In vain did he repeat to Edouard his lesson, and urge him to deny everything; Edouard had not enough strength of character to form a resolution. He contradicted himself, betrayed himself, and allowed himself to be easily convicted of his crime. The miserable wretch recognized his wife and child at the moment that he was branded with the mark of infamy. He saw Adeline fall unconscious before him; that heartrending picture was long present in his mind; the image of a woman who adored him and whose life he had wrecked, the sight of a child whom he condemned to the shame of not being able to mention her father without a shudder, and the memory of the happiness he had once enjoyed in his home,--all these overwhelmed the unhappy felon and made him feel more keenly the horror of his situation. Remorse gnawed at Edouard’s heart, and led him, so far as he was able, to avoid the society of the other prisoners, who laughed at his grief and sneered at his cowardice. A hundred times the poor wretch formed a plan to put an end to his existence, but only in fear and trembling did he invent methods which his weak character instantly spurned. In this frame of mind Murville made the journey from Bicêtre to Toulon, without observing that his brother gave alms to his companions as they passed through Paris. Lampin was always the same; at the galleys he retained his recklessness and gayety; shame was to him nothing more than an empty word, and he strove every day to lift Edouard above what he called prejudice. The penitent culprit never receives useful advice in the society of galley slaves. For one criminal who knows the pangs of remorse, how many are there who become hardened in crime and take pleasure in corrupting entirely those whom sincere repentance might have led back into the paths of virtue!