iece of childish
folly--an unmanly way, to say the least, of relieving the tedium of
captivity. What was Monsieur Crapaud but a very ugly (and most people
said a venomous) reptile? To what a folly he had been condescending!
With these thoughts, Monsieur the Viscount steeled himself against the
glances of his topaz-eyed friend, and when the steps of thee men were
heard upon the stairs, he did not move from the window where he had
placed himself, with his back to the stone.

The steps came nearer and nearer, Monsieur the Viscount began to
whistle;--the key was rattled into the lock, and Monsieur the Viscount
heard a bit of bread fall, as the toad hastily descended to hide itself
as usual in the corners. In a moment his resolution was gone; another
second, and it would be too late. He dashed after the creature, picked
it up, and when the men came in he was standing with his hands behind
him, in which Monsieur Crapaud was quietly and safely seated.

The room was swept, and Antoine was preparing to go, when the other, who
had been eyeing the prisoner suspiciously, stopped and said with a sharp
sneer, "Does the citizen always preserve that position?"

"Not he," said the gaoler, good-naturedly. "He spends most of his time
in bed, which saves his legs. Come along Francois."

"I shall not come," said the other, obstinately. "Let the citizen show
me his hands."

"Plague take you!" said Antoine, in a whisper. "What sulky fit
possesses you, my comrade! Let the poor wretch alone. What wouldst thou
with his hands? Wait a little, and thou shalt have his head."

"We should have few heads or prisoners either, if thou hadst the care of
them," said Francois sharply. "I say that the prisoner secretes
something, and that I will see it. Show your hands, dog of an
aristocrat!"

Monsieur the Viscount set his teeth to keep himself from speaking, and
held out his hands in silence, toad and all.

Both the men started back with an exclamation, and Francois got behind
his comrade, and swore over his shoulder.

Monsieur the Viscount stood upright and still, with a smile on his white
face. "Behold, citizen, what I secrete, and what I desire to keep.
Behold all that I have left to secrete or to desire! There is nothing
more."

"Throw it down!" screamed Francois; "many a witch has been burnt for
less--throw it down."

The color began to flood over Monsieur the Viscount's face; but still he
spoke gently, and with bated breath. "If you wish