he cookery--and I 'went it my hardest.' I cut, slashed,--slashed,
chopped, as if I was in the slaughter-house. I made 'cold meat' of the
sergeant, wounded two soldiers,--it was a real shambles; I gave the
three eleven wounds,--yes, eleven. Blood flowed, flowed everywhere,
blood, as though we were in the bone-house,--I swam in it--"

The brigand lowered his head with a sombre, sullen air, and was silent.

"What are you thinking of, Chourineur?" asked Rodolph, with interest.

"Nothing," he replied, abruptly; and then, with an air of brutish
carelessness, he added, "At length they handcuffed me, and brought me
before the 'big wigs,' and I was cast for death."

"You escaped, however?"

"True; but I had fifteen years at the galleys instead of being
'scragged.' I forgot to tell you that whilst in the regiment I had saved
two of my comrades from drowning in the Marne, when we were quartered at
Milan. At another time,--you will laugh, and say I am amphibious either
in fire or water when saving men or women,--at another time, being in
garrison at Rouen, all the wooden houses in one quarter were on fire,
and burning like so many matches. I am the lad for a fire, and so I went
to the place in an instant. They told me that there was an old woman who
was bedridden, and could not escape from her room, which was already in
flames. I went towards it, and, by Jove! how it did burn; it reminded me
of the lime-kilns in my happy days. However, I saved the old woman,
although I had the very soles of my feet scorched. Thanks to my having
done these things, and the cunning of my advocate, my sentence was
changed, and, instead of being 'scragged,' I was only sent to the hulks
for fifteen years. When I found that my life would be spared, and I was
to go to the galleys, I would have jumped upon the babbling fool, and
twisted his neck, at the moment when he came to wish me joy, and to tell
me he had saved my life, and be hanged to him! only they prevented me."

"Were you sorry, then, to have your sentence commuted?"

"Yes; for those who sport with the knife, the headsman's steel is the
proper fate; for those who steal, the 'darbies' to their heels: each his
proper punishment. But to force you to live amongst galley-slaves, when
you have a right to be guillotined out of hand, is infamous; and,
besides, my life, when I first went to the Bagne, was rather queer; one
don't kill a man, and soon forget it, you must know."

"You feel some remorse