Gaillard put the bottle to his lips and took a long draught of the contents while Tappeur watched him anxiously. He then passed it over to Petitsou, who treated it in a like manner. Tappeur received it in his turn in thankful silence, and after having punished it severely, put it down by his side. Gaillard helped himself to a piece of bread and a sausage, and ate with good appetite, leaving his new companions to finish the wine, to the evident satisfaction of those two worthies. "You have a hard fist, my brave comrade!" exclaimed Tappeur, filling a pipe as short and grimy as the thumb that pushed the tobacco down into the bowl. "A hard fist and a free purse and Tappeur is your friend for life." To give emphasis to his words he puffed a cloud of blue smoke up into Gaillard's face, and drained the last few drops of wine in the flagon. "That's very good stuff," he continued, balancing the empty bottle upon its nose, "but brandy would be more satisfying." Gaillard refused to take the hint, and turned away to spread his cloak in a corner of the cell, where he lay down upon it and was soon in a deep sleep. Week followed week, and Gaillard continued to live below the ground far from the sunlight which he loved so dearly, while Tournay, confined in the cell upon the second floor, wondered why he received no word from the friend in the outside world. Thus they lived within one hundred yards of each other, thinking of each other daily, and with no means of communication. One thing Gaillard had to be thankful for, and that was the sum of money the theatre manager had paid him on the very night of his arrest. With it he had purchased many comforts to make his life more bearable. He had procured a fresh supply of straw and a warm blanket for his bed; some candles and a rough chair upon which he took turns in sitting with the two jail-birds, his companions, although at meals he always occupied it by tacit consent. Under the influence of the additional food which Gaillard's purse supplied, Tappeur grew fat and better natured, though he swore none the less, and drank and smoked all that Gaillard would provide for him. Indeed, he thought the actor a little niggardly in furnishing the brandy, and one day, after a good meal, was inclined to be swaggering, intimating that, with respect to drink, the rations should be increased. Whereupon Gaillard cut off his potations entirely for twenty-four hours, and he became as meek as a lamb and remained so ever after. Both the bully and Petitsou would frequently regale Gaillard with long accounts of their past crimes. During the recitals, Tappeur, although always boastful on his own account, showed a certain deference to the forger. "I can cut a throat or rob a purse with the best blackguard in France," he would say to the actor, "but that little Petitsou is the true artist."