“Yes, it is I,” answered the man, in a tone of desperation. “In the name of heaven tell me why we are shut up here like two criminals?” “What other people have been doing I can’t tell,” muttered the old man; “I only speak for myself, and I have done no harm to any one. My hats are ruined,—and I, too, for that matter!” continued Bélisaire, dolefully. “But what have I done?” asked Jack, for he could not imagine that among the many follies of which he had been guilty there was one more grave than another. “They say—But why do you make me tell you? You know well enough what they say.” “Indeed, I do not; pray, go on.” “Well, they say that you have stolen Zénaïde’s dowry.” The boy uttered an exclamation of horror. “But you do not believe this, Bélisaire?” The old man did not answer. Every one at Indret thought Jack guilty. Every circumstance was against the boy. On the first report of the robbery, Jack was looked for, but was not to be found. Chariot had very well managed matters. All along the road there were traces of the robbery in the gold pieces displayed so liberally. Only one thing disturbed the belief of the boy’s guilt in the minds of the villagers: what could he have done with the six thousand francs? Neither Bélisaire’s pocket nor his own displayed any indication that such a sum of money had been in their possession. Soon after daybreak the superintendent sent for the prisoners. They were covered with mud, and were unwashed and unshorn; yet Jack had a certain grace and refinement in spite of all this; but Bélisaire’s naturally ugly countenance was so distorted by grief and anxiety, that, as the two appeared, the spectators unanimously decided that this gentle-looking child was the mere instrument of the wretched being with whom he was unfortunately connected. As Jack looked about he saw several faces which seemed like those of some terrible nightmare, and his courage deserted him. He recognized the sailors, and the proprietors of several of the wineshops, with many others of those whom he had seen on that disastrous yesterday. The child begged for a private interview with the superintendent, and was admitted to the office, where he found Father Rondic, whom Jack went forward at once to greet with extended hand. The old man drew back sadly but resolutely. “Out of regard for your youth, Jack,” said the Director, “and from respect to your parents, and in consideration of your hitherto good behavior, I have begged that, instead of being carried to Nantes and placed in prison, you shall remain here. I now tell you that it is for you to decide what will be done. Tell me the truth. Tell Father Rondic and myself what you have done with the money, give him back what is left, and—no, do not interrupt me,” continued the Director, with a frown. “Return the money, and I will then send you to your parents.”