"Now," said the officer, drawing nearer to him with evident interest, "have you no commissions,--in the city? Do you expect nothing? You say that you are a soldier; so am I; look upon me, therefore, as a comrade." Canolles stared at him in amazement. "No, monsieur," said he; "no, I have no commissions in the city; no, I expect nothing, unless it be a certain person whom I may not name. As for looking upon you as a comrade, I thank you for the suggestion. Here is my hand, monsieur, and later, if I need anything, I will remember what you say." It was the officer's turn to stare at Canolles in amazement. "Very well, monsieur," said he, "you will be served at once;" and he withdrew. A moment later two soldiers entered with the supper; it was more elaborate than Canolles had asked for, and he sat down at the table and ate heartily. The soldiers in their turn gazed wonderingly at him. Canolles mistook their amazement for envy, and as the wine was excellent Guyenne, he said to them:-- "My friends, order two glasses." One of the soldiers smiled, and procured the articles in question. Canolles filled them; then poured a few drops of wine into his own. "Your health, my friends!" said he. The two soldiers took their glasses, mechanically touched them to Canolles', and drank without reciprocating his toast. "They are not very polite," thought Canolles, "but they drink well; one cannot have everything." He continued his supper, and brought it triumphantly to a close. When he had finished he rose, and the soldiers removed the table. The officer returned. "_Pardieu!_ monsieur," said Canolles, "you should have supped with me; the supper was excellent." "I could not enjoy that honor, monsieur, for I have just left the table myself. I return--" "To bear me company?" said Canolles. "If so, accept my warmest thanks, monsieur, for it is very kind of you." "No, monsieur, my errand is less agreeable. I come to inform you that there is no minister in the prison, and that the chaplain is a Catholic; I know you to be a Protestant, and this fact may annoy you somewhat--" "Annoy me, monsieur? how so?" demanded Canolles, innocently. "Why," said the embarrassed officer, "in the matter of your devotions." "My devotions! Nonsense!" laughed Canolles. "I will think of that to-morrow. I pray only in the morning." The officer stared at Canolles in open-mouthed astonishment, which gradually changed to profound compassion. He bowed and left the room. "Damnation!" said Canolles, "why, every one is crazy! Since poor Richon's death everybody I meet has the aspect of an idiot or a madman. _Sarpejeu!_ shall I never see a sensible face again?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when the door opened once more, and before he had time to see who had opened it, some one threw herself into his arms, and winding her arms around his neck deluged his face with tears.