were ruined, his house burned, and his fortune destroyed. This evening I was about to address the unhappy man and tell him all; but once more you anticipated me; the devil gave you the start of me, and Loupian fell beneath your blows, before that God who was guiding me permitted me to save from death your last victim. What matter, after all? I have you now! I, in my turn, can prove to you that the men of our country have arms as good as their memories! I am Antoine Allut!"
Picaud made no reply, but strange emotions shook his soul. Sustained up to that moment by the giddy drunkenness of revenge, he had forgotten his immense fortune and all the pleasures it placed within his reach. Now, when his vengeance was accomplished, when he was about to plan a future life of wealth, he had fallen into the hands of a man as implacable as he remembered he had been himself. These thoughts flitted through his brain, and a convulsion of rage made him bite the gag that Antoine Allut had had the foresight to use.
"Can I not," he reflected, "rich as I am, by fine promises, and if necessary, by even a real sacrifice, get rid of this enemy? I gave fifty thousand francs to learn the names of my victims; will not an equal amount, or even twice the amount, free me from the peril I am in?"
But the dense fumes of avarice obscured the clearness of this thought. Although he possessed sixteen millions, he shrank from having to surrender the sum that might be demanded. Love of gold choked the cries of his carnal self that longed to purchase its liberty, yet could plead only feebly. "Oh!" he said in the inmost recesses of his soul, "the poorer I pretend to be, the sooner I shall get out of this prison. No one knows how much I possess; I will feign to be on the verge of beggary; he will let me go for a few crowns, and then, once out of his hands, I will soon get him into mine."
Such were the absurd imaginations of Picaud, such the mess he made of hopes and mistakes, while Allut was removing the gag.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"No matter! you are in a place where you can expect neither aid nor pity; you are in my power, in mine alone, understand, and are the slave of my will and my caprice."
Picaud smiled disdainfully, and his old friend ceased to speak. He left him still lying on the truckle-bed, where he had flung him down, and did not loosen his bonds. Allut even added to the severity of the restraints which held the prisoner, and passed around his waist a large, thick girdle of iron, fastened by a chain to three huge rings riveted to the wall. Having done this, Allut sat down to supper; and as Picaud saw that Allut did not offer him a portion, he said:
"I am hungry!"
