“Believe me, then, I know Lucien; he has a soul of a woman, of a poet, and a southerner, without persistency or will,” said Jacques Collin, who fancied that he saw that he had won the judge over. “You are convinced of the young man’s innocence, do not torture him, do not question him. Give him that letter, tell him that he is Esther’s heir, and restore him to freedom. If you act otherwise, you will bring despair on yourself; whereas, if you simply release him, I will explain to you--keep me still in solitary confinement--to-morrow or this evening, everything that may strike you as mysterious in the case, and the reasons for the persecution of which I am the object. But it will be at the risk of my life, a price has been set on my head these six years past.... Lucien free, rich, and married to Clotilde de Grandlieu, and my task on earth will be done; I shall no longer try to save my skin.--My persecutor was a spy under your late King.” “What, Corentin?” “Ah! Is his name Corentin? Thank you, monsieur. Well, will you promise to do as I ask you?” “A magistrate can make no promises.--Coquart, tell the usher and the gendarmes to take the prisoner back to the Conciergerie.--I will give orders that you are to have a private room,” he added pleasantly, with a slight nod to the convict. Struck by Jacques Collin’s request, and remembering how he had insisted that he wished to be examined first as a privilege to his state of health, Camusot’s suspicions were aroused once more. Allowing his vague doubts to make themselves heard, he noticed that the self-styled dying man was walking off with the strength of a Hercules, having abandoned all the tricks he had aped so well on appearing before the magistrate. “Monsieur!” Jacques Collin turned round. “Notwithstanding your refusal to sign the document, my clerk will read you the minutes of your examination.” The prisoner was evidently in excellent health; the readiness with which he came back, and sat down by the clerk, was a fresh light to the magistrate’s mind. “You have got well very suddenly!” said Camusot. “Caught!” thought Jacques Collin; and he replied: “Joy, monsieur, is the only panacea.--That letter, the proof of innocence of which I had no doubt--these are the grand remedy.” The judge kept a meditative eye on the prisoner when the usher and the gendarmes again took him in charge. Then, with a start like a waking man, he tossed Esther’s letter across to the table where his clerk sat, saying: “Coquart, copy that letter.”