"You may judge of the life and row which these monkeys, guinea-pigs, foxes, mice, tortoises, marmosettes, and children made all in the dark in this cock-loft, which was as big as a barn. Cut-in-Half slept in a room underneath, with his great ape, Gargousse, fastened to the foot of his bed. When the brute growled, because there was too much noise in the loft, the beast-shower went up the ladder without any light, and, going into the loft, laid about him right and left with a heavy whip, without seeing or counting his blows. As there were always some fifteen children, and some of the poor dears brought him in twenty sous a day, Cut-in-Half having defrayed all his outlay, which was by no means excessive, had left for himself some four or five francs a day, with which he enjoyed himself, for it must be told that he was one of the greatest tipplers that ever lived, and was regularly blind drunk once a day. That was his rule; and he declared that, but for that, he should have the headache every day. We should add, that out of his gains he used to buy some sheeps' hearts for Gargousse, who ate raw flesh like a cannibal. But I see the honourable society are anxious to be introduced to Gringalet! Here he is, gents!" "Let's have Gringalet, and I'll go and eat my soup," said the turnkey. The Skeleton exchanged a look of savage satisfaction with the Gros-Boiteux. "Amongst the children to whom Cut-in-Half distributed his animals," continued Pique-Vinaigre, "was a poor little devil named Gringalet. Without father or mother, brother or sister, without fire, food, or shelter, he was alone in the world,--quite alone in a world which he had not asked to enter, and which he might leave without attracting any one's attention. He was not called Gringalet for any pleasure he had in the name, for he was meagre, lean, and pallid; he did not look above seven or eight years old, but was really thirteen. If he did not seem more than half his name, it was not because of his own will, but because he only fed perhaps every other day, and then so scantily, so poorly, that it was really an exertion to make him pass for seven years old." "Poor little brat! I think I see him!" said the prisoner in the blue cotton nightcap; "there are so many children like him on the streets of Paris dying of hunger!" "They must begin to learn that way of living very young in order to get accustomed to it," said Pique-Vinaigre, with a bitter smile. "Come, get on!" said the Skeleton, suddenly; "the turnkey is getting impatient--his soup is getting cold." "Oh, never mind that!" said the _surveillant_. "I wish to know something more of Gringalet; it is very amusing!" "Yes, it is really very interesting!" added Germain, who was very attentive to the story. "Ah, thank ye for saying that, my capitalist," said Pique-Vinaigre; "that gives me more satisfaction than your ten-sous' piece." "_Tonnerre!_" exclaimed the Skeleton, "will you have done with your delays?"