He would have
felt relieved, had this even been the silence of the grave. His body,
as well as his mind, was weighed down with weariness. He wanted to
sit down, when he perceived a small bed, to the right, in front of the
grated window, which let in the little light there was. This bed was as
welcome to him as a plank would be to a drowning man. He threw himself
upon it, and lay down with delight; but he felt cold, so he unfolded
the coarse woollen coverlid, and wrapping it about him, was soon sound
asleep.
In the corridor, two detectives, one still young, the other rather old,
applied alternately their eyes and ears to the peep-hole in the door,
watching every movement of the prisoner; "What a fellow he is!" murmured
the younger officer. "If a man has no more nerve than that, he ought
to remain honest. He won't care much about his looks the morning of his
execution, eh, M. Balan?"
"That depends," replied the other. "We must wait and see. Lecoq told me
that he was a terrible rascal."
"Ah! look he arranges his bed, and lies down. Can he be going to sleep?
That's good! It's the first time I ever saw such a thing."
"It is because, comrade, you have only had dealings with the smaller
rogues.
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