thine do; his brow was calm, and fair as children's
should be--thine is marked with manhood's craft and subtlety; and yet,
thou art like him.'

A low sob broke from me as I listened to his words, and the tears gushed
forth, and rolled in torrents down my cheeks.

'Yes,' cried he, clasping me in his arms, 'thou art my own dear boy.
I know thee now; but how art thou here, and thus?' and he touched my
blouse as he spoke.

'I came to see and to save you, pere,' said I. 'Nay, do not try to
discourage me, but rather give me all your aid. I saw her--I was with
her in her last moments at the guillotine; she gave me a message for
you, but this you shall never hear till we are without these walls.'

'It cannot be, it cannot be,' said he sorrowfully.

'It can and shall be,' said I resolutely. 'I have merely assumed this
dress for the occasion; I have friends, powerful and willing to protect
me. Let us change robes--give me that "soutane," and put on the blouse.
When you leave this, hasten to the old garden of the chapel, and wait
for my coming--I will join you there before night.'

'It cannot be,' replied he again.

'Again I say, it shall, and must be. Nay, if you still refuse, there
shall be two victims, for I will tear off the dress here where I stand,
and openly declare myself the son of the Royalist Tiernay.'

Already the commotion in the court beneath was beginning to subside, and
even now the turnkeys' voices were heard in the refectory, recalling the
prisoners to table--another moment and it would have been too late: it
was, then, less by persuasion than by actual force I compelled him to
yield, and, pulling off his black serge gown, drew over his shoulders my
yellow blouse, and placed upon his head the white cap of the 'Marmiton.'
The look of shame and sorrow of the poor cure would have betrayed him at
once, if any had given themselves the trouble to look at him.

'And thou, my poor child,' said he, as he saw me array myself in his
priestly dress, 'what is to be thy fate?'

'All will depend upon you, Pere Michel,' said I, holding him by the
arm, and trying to fix his wandering attention. 'Once out of the prison,
write to Boivin, the restaurateur of the "Scelerat," and tell him that
an escaped convict has scruples for the danger into which he has brought
a poor boy, one of his "Marmitons," and whom by a noxious drug he has
lulled into insensibility, while, having exchanged clothes, he has
managed his escape. Boiv