! they thought me one of those brigands. I have
seen _chauffing_," continued Farrabesche after a pause, in a low voice,
"but I never either did it myself, or took any of the money obtained
by it. I was a refractory, I evaded the conscription, that was all.
I helped my comrades, I kept watch; I was sentinel and brought up the
rear-guard; but I never shed any man's blood except in self-defence. Ah!
I told all to Monsieur Bonnet and my lawyer, and the judges knew well
enough that I was no murderer. But, all the same, I am a great criminal;
nothing that I ever did was morally right. However, before I got there,
as I was saying, two of my comrades told of me as a man able to do
great things. At the galleys, madame, nothing is so valuable as that
reputation, not even money. In that republic of misery murder is a
passport to tranquillity. I did nothing to destroy that opinion of me.
I was sad, resigned, and they mistook the appearance of it. My gloomy
manner, my silence, passed for ferocity. All that world, convicts,
keepers, young and old, respected me. I was treated as first in my hall.
No one interfered with my sleep; I was never suspected of informing;
I behaved honorably according to their ideas; I never refused to do
service; I never testified the slightest repugnance; I howled with the
wolves outside, I prayed to God within. My last companion in chains
was a soldier, twenty-two years of age, who had committed a theft and
deserted in consequence of it. We were chained together for four years,
and we were friends; wherever I may be I am certain to meet him when his
time is up. This poor devil, whose name is Guepin, is not a scoundrel,
he is merely heedless; his punishment may reform him. If my comrades had
discovered that religion led me to submit to my trials,--that I meant,
when my time was up, to live humbly in a corner, letting no one know
where I was, intending to forget their horrible community and never to
cross the path of any of them,--they would probably have driven me mad."

"Then," said Madame Graslin, "if a poor young man, a tender soul,
carried away by passion, having committed a murder, was spared from
death and sent to the galleys--"

"Oh! madame," said Farrabesche, interrupting her, "there is no sparing
in that. The sentence may be commuted to twenty years at the galleys,
but for a decent young man, that is awful! I could not speak to you of
the life that awaits him there; a thousand times better die. Yes