Late in the afternoon of the second day of his imprisonment, Tulitz, desperate with hunger, rage, and despair, sat down upon the stool in his cell and glared viciously at the grating. The guard's face was there. "Ha!" cried Tulitz, in a shrill voice, "keep avay! You tink I von tam mouse, and you ze cat, hey? You sit outside ze cage viz your claw out and your tail stiff, ready to pounce on ze mouse. _Mon Dieu!_ How I hate!" The guard unlocked the iron door and stepped inside. "Don't make sech a racket over nawthin'," he said. "De warden says yer gotter do some eatin'." "I kill ze warden if he keep not his _mechant chute_!" "Wotcher goin' ter do? Starve?" "If I choose starve, how you prevent him, hey? How make you me eat? _Voila, bete!_" Tulitz drew himself to his full height, turned up his shirt-sleeves and bared his great, muscular arm. "Oh, all right," said the guard. "It's all one to me. Starve if yer wanter. I'm agreeable." "I vant notting, _rien, rien_!" said Tulitz. "I vant to be leave alone." "Dat aint much. Mos' people wat comes here is more graspin'. Mos' people wants ter git out." "Ha!" said Tulitz. "De warden said fer me ter come in here an' tell yer' he'd send fer anybody yer wanter see." "Zere is nopotty." "Aincher got no friends?" "Ven I haf money, I have friend--_beaucoup_, more friend as I know vat to do viz. I haf no money now." "Wot's your bail?" "Fi' tousant tollaire! Bah! Vat is fi' tousant tollaire? Many time I spend him viz no more care as I light my cigar. A bagatelle! But," and he added this with a curiously grim expression, "I haf no bagatelle to-day." The guard sidled up to Tulitz and whispered in his ear, "What'll yer gimme if I gitcher a bondsman?" "Ha!" said Tulitz, "you haf ze man?" "I knows a man," replied the guard reflectively, "who might do it on my recommend. Sometimes, w'en a man aint got no frien's, but kin lay aroun' 'im an' scoop tergedder a couple er hundred dollars, I mention him ter my frien' wid a recommend, an' dat settles it, out he comes." "Two hundret tollaire!" cried Tulitz, almost piteously. "Ven I efer t'ink my liperty cost me two huntret tollaire and I haf not got him. Zis blow kill all zat is to me of my self-respect! _Je suis hors de moi-meme!_" "Why, you orter be able to raise dat much tin," said the guard. Tulitz jumped from his bed to the floor with a cry such as a wild beast might have given as it sprang from peril into safety. He demanded pencil and paper, and with them he scribbled a message. "Send for me zat note!" he said. "Bring me a _filet de b[oe]uf_, a _pate de fois gras_, and a bottle of Burgundy, and bring him all quick! Corinne! _La belle_ Corinne! _Cherie amie_, vot I haf svear I lofe and cherish! I haf not remember you, Corinne!"