ill be our betrothing."
And the young girl, blushing, bowed her forehead against the iron
trellis.

Germain, deeply affected, touched with his lips through the grating her
pure and white forehead.

* * * * *

"Oh, oh! What, three o'clock already?" said the turnkey; "and visitors
ought to leave at two! Come, my dear little girl," he added, addressing
the grisette, "it's a pity, but you must go."

"Oh, thanks, thanks, sir, for having allowed us thus to converse alone!
I have given Germain courage, and now he will look livelier, and need
not fear his wicked companions."

"Make yourself easy," said Germain, with a smile; "I shall in future be
the gayest in the prison."

"That's all right, and then they will no longer pay any attention to
you," said the guardian.

"Here is a cravat I have brought for Germain, sir," said Rigolette.
"Must I leave it at the entrance?"

"Why, perhaps you should; but still it is such a very small matter! So,
to make the day complete, give him your present yourself." And the
turnkey opened the door of the corridor.

"This good man is right, and the day will be complete," said Germain,
receiving the cravat from Rigolette's hands, which he pressed tenderly.

"Adieu; and to our speedy meeting! Now I am no longer afraid to ask you
to come and see me as soon as possible."

"Nor I to promise you. Good-bye, dear Germain!"

"Good-bye, my dear girl!"

"Wear the cravat, for fear you should catch cold; it is so damp!"

"What a pretty cravat! And when I reflect that you knitted it for me!
Oh, I will never let it leave me!" said Germain, pressing it to his
lips.

"Now, then, your spirits will revive, I hope! And so good-bye, once
more. Thank you, sir. And now I go away, much happier and more assured.
Good-bye, Germain!"

"Farewell, my dear little wife!"

"Adieu!"

A few minutes afterwards, Rigolette, having put on her goloshes and
taken her umbrella, left the prison more joyfully than she had entered
it. During the conversation of Germain and the grisette, other scenes
were passing in one of the prison yards, to which we will now conduct
the reader.

CHAPTER IX.

THE LIONS' DEN.

If the appearance of a house of confinement, constructed with every
attention to salubrity and humanity, has nothing repulsive in its
aspect, the sight of the prisoners causes a very different feeling. At
the sight of the criminals who fill the gaols, we are at first