Besides, a coffin in which there is a living body, this convict's expedient, is also an imperial expedient. If we may believe the monk Austin Castillejo, it was the way employed by Charles V., who, wishing to see La Plombes for the last time after his abdication, contrived to get her in and out of the monastery of St. Yuste. Fauchelevent, when he had slightly recovered, exclaimed,-- "But how will you manage to breathe?" "I will manage it." "In that box? Why, the mere idea of it chokes me. "You have a gimlet. You will make a few holes round the mouth, and nail down the lid, without closing it tightly." "Good! and suppose you cough or sneeze?" "A man who is escaping does not do such a thing." And Jean Valjean added,-- "Father Fauchelevent, we must make up our minds. I must either be captured here or go out in the hearse." Everybody must have noticed the fancy which cats have of stopping and sniffing in a half-opened door. Who has not said to a cat, "Come in, then"? There are men who, when an incident stands half opened before them, have also a tendency to remain undecided between two resolutions, at the risk of being crushed by destiny as it hurriedly closes the adventure. The more prudent, cats though they are, and because they are cats, often incur greater danger than the more daring. Fauchelevent was of this hesitating nature; still, Jean Valjean's coolness involuntarily mastered him, and he growled,-- "After all, there is no other way." Jean Valjean continued,-- "The only thing I am anxious about is what will take place at the cemetery." "There is the very thing I am not anxious about," said Fauchelevent; "if you feel sure of getting out of the coffin, I feel sure of getting you out of the grave. The grave-digger is a friend of mine and a drunkard of the name of Father Mestienne; he puts the dead in the grave, and I put the grave-digger in my pocket. I will tell you what will occur. We shall arrive a little before twilight, three quarters of an hour before the cemetery gates are closed The hearse will drive up to the grave; and I shall follow, for that is my business. I shall have a hammer, a chisel, and pincers in my pocket; the hearse stops, the undertaker knots a cord round your coffin and lets you down; the priest says the prayers, makes the sign of the cross, sprinkles the holy water, and bolts. I remain alone with Father Mestienne; and he is a friend of mine, I tell you. One of two things is certain; he will either be drunk or not be drunk. If he is not drunk, I shall say to him, 'Come, and have a drink before the "Bon Coing" closes.' I take him away, make him drunk, which does not take long, as he has always made a beginning. I lay him under the table, take his card, and return to the cemetery without him. You will have only to deal with me. If he is drunk I shall say to him, 'Be off; I will do your work for you.' He will go, and I get you out of the hole."