“You are sure of that?”

“I am sure of the relative honesty of my rascals; they never play any tricks on me.  I hold the power of life and death; I try and condemn them and carry out my sentence without all your formalities.  You can see for yourself the results of my authority.  I will recover the money stolen from Monsieur and Madame Crottat; I will hand you over one of Bibi-Lupin’s men, his right hand, caught in the act; and I will tell you the secret of the Nanterre murders.  This is not a bad beginning.  And if you only employ me in the service of the law and the police, by the end of a year you will be satisfied with all I can tell you.  I will be thoroughly all that I ought to be, and shall manage to succeed in all the business that is placed in my hands.”

“I can promise you nothing but my goodwill.  What you ask is not in my power.  The privilege of granting pardons is the King’s alone, on the recommendation of the Keeper of the Seals; and the place you wish to hold is in the gift of the Prefet of Police.”

“Monsieur Garnery,” the office-boy announced.

At a nod from Monsieur de Granville the Delegate commissioner came in, glanced at Jacques Collin as one who knows, and gulped down his astonishment on hearing the word “Go!” spoken to Jacques Collin by Monsieur de Granville.

“Allow me,” said Jacques Collin, “to remain here till Monsieur Garnery has returned with the documents in which all my strength lies, that I may take away with me some expression of your satisfaction.”

This absolute humility and sincerity touched the public prosecutor.

“Go,” said he; “I can depend on you.”

Jacques Collin bowed humbly, with the submissiveness of an inferior to his master.  Ten minutes later, Monsieur de Granville was in possession of the letters in three sealed packets that had not been opened!  But the importance of this point, and Jacques Collin’s avowal, had made him forget the convict’s promise to cure Madame de Serizy.

When once he was outside, Jacques Collin had an indescribable sense of satisfaction.  He felt he was free, and born to a new phase of life.  He walked quickly from the Palais to the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, where mass was over.  The coffin was being sprinkled with holy water, and he arrived in time thus to bid farewell, in a Christian fashion, to the mortal remains of the youth he had loved so well.  Then he got into a carriage and drove after the body to the cemetery.

In Paris, unless on very exceptional occasions, or when some famous man has died a natural death, the crowd that gathers about a funeral diminishes by degrees as the procession approaches Pere-Lachaise.  People make time to show themselves in church; but every one has his business to attend to, and returns to it as soon as possible.  Thus of ten mourning carriages, only four were occupied.  By the time they reached Pere-Lachaise there were not more than a dozen followers, among whom was Rastignac.