During the solitude in which he lived in Bras Rouge's cellar, remorse gradually insinuated itself into his strong heart; and, cut off from all communication with the outer world, his thoughts fled inwards, and presented him with ghastly images of those he had destroyed, till his brain burned with its own excited torture. And thus this miserable creature, still in the full vigour and strength of manhood, before whom were, doubtless, long years of life, and enjoying the undisturbed possession of his reason, was condemned to linger out the remainder of his days as a self-imposed mute, and in the company of fools and madmen; or if his imposition was discovered, his murderous deeds would conduct him to a scaffold, or condemn him to perpetual banishment among a set of villains, for whom his newly awakened penitence made him feel the utmost horror. The Schoolmaster was sitting on a bench; a mass of grizzled, tangled locks hung around his huge and hideous head; leaning his elbow on his knee, he supported his cheek in his hand. Spite of his sightless eyes and mutilated features, the revolting countenance still expressed the most bitter and overwhelming despair. "Dear mother," observed Germain, "what a wretched looking object is this unfortunate blind man!" [Illustration: "The Schoolmaster Was Sitting on a Bench" Original Etching by Porteau] "Oh, yes, my son!" answered Madame Georges; "it makes one's heart ache to behold a fellow creature so heavily afflicted. I know not when anything has so completely shocked me as the sight of this deplorable being." Scarcely had Madame Georges given utterance to these words than the Schoolmaster started, and his countenance, even despite its cicatrised and disfigured state, became of an ashy paleness. He rose and turned his head in the direction of Madame Georges so suddenly that she could not refrain from faintly screaming, though wholly unsuspicious of who the frightful creature really was; but the Schoolmaster's ear had readily detected the voice of his wife, and her words told him she was addressing her son. "Mother!" inquired Germain, "what ails you? Are you ill?" "Nothing, my son; but the sudden movement made by that man terrified me. Indeed, sir," continued she, addressing the doctor, "I begin to feel sorry I allowed my curiosity to bring me hither." "Nay, dear mother, just for once to see such a place cannot hurt you!" "I tell you what, Germain," interposed Rigolette, "I don't feel very comfortable myself; and I promise you neither your mother nor I will desire to come here again--it is too affecting!" "Nonsense! You are a little coward! Is she not, M. le Docteur?" "Why, really," answered M. Herbin, "I must confess that the sight of this blind lunatic affects even me, who am accustomed to such things."