With feverish eagerness he tore open the wrappings, and let the pieces fall in cascades upon the table; and, as the heap increased, his lips turned white, and perspiration broke out on his temples.

“And all that is for me?” he said with a stupid laugh.

“Yes, it is yours,” replied Dionysia.

“I did not know how sixteen thousand francs would look.  How beautiful gold is!  Just look, wife.”

But Colette turned her head away.  She was quite as covetous as her husband, and perhaps even more excited; but she was a woman, and she knew how to dissemble.

“Ah, my dear young lady!” she said, “never would my old man and myself have asked you for money, if we had only ourselves to think of.  But we have children.”

“Your duty is to think of your children,” replied Dionysia.

“I know sixteen thousand francs is a big sum.  Perhaps you will be sorry to give us so much money.”

“I am not sorry at all:  I would even add to it willingly.”  And she showed them one of the other four rolls in her bag.

“Then, to be sure, what do I care for my place!” cried Blangin.  And, intoxicated by the sight and the touch of the gold, he added,—­

“You are at home here, madam; and the jail and the jailer are at your disposal.  What do you desire?  Just speak.  I have nine prisoners, not counting M. de Boiscoran and Trumence.  Do you want me to set them all free?”

“Blangin!” said his wife reprovingly.

“What?  Am I not free to let the prisoners go?”

“Before you play the master, wait, at least, till you have rendered our young lady the service which she expects from you.”

“Certainly.”

“Then go and conceal this money,” said the prudent woman; “or it might betray us.”

And, drawing from her cupboard a woollen stocking, she handed it to her husband, who slipped the sixteen thousand francs into it, retaining about a dozen gold-pieces, which he kept in his pocket so as always to have in his hands some tangible evidence of his new fortune.  When this was done, and the stocking, full to overflowing, had been put back in the cupboard under a pile of linen, she ordered her husband,—­

“Now, you go down.  Somebody might be coming; and, if you were not there to open when they knock, that might look suspicious.”

Like a well-trained husband, Blangin obeyed without saying a word; and then his wife bethought herself how to entertain Dionysia.  She hoped, she said, her dear young lady would do her the honor to take something.  That would strengthen her, and, besides, help her to pass the time; for it was only seven o’clock, and Blangin could not take her to M. de Boiscoran’s cell before ten, without great danger.

“But I have dined,” Dionysia objected.  “I do not want any thing.”

The woman insisted only the more.  She remembered (God be thanked!) her dear young lady’s taste; and she had made her an admirable broth, and some beautiful dessert.  And, while thus talking, she set the table, having made up her mind that Dionysia must eat at all hazards; at least, so says the tradition of the place.