Those whom he had saved owed him, he thought, this
slight token of gratitude.
A little after two o'clock he heard sounds that made him tremble. There
was a great bustle in the corridors; guards running to and fro, and
calling each other, a rattling of keys, and the opening and shutting of
doors.
The passage was suddenly illuminated; he looked out, and by the
uncertain light of the lanterns, he thought he saw Lacheneur, as pale as
a ghost, pass the cell, led by some soldiers.
Lacheneur! Could this be possible? He doubted his own eyesight. He
thought it must be a vision born of the fever burning in his brain.
Later, he heard a despairing cry. But was it surprising that one should
hear such a sound in a prison, where twenty men condemned to death were
suffering the agony of that terrible night which precedes the day of
execution.
At last, the gray light of early dawn came creeping in through the
prison-bars. Chanlouineau was in despair.
"The letter was useless!" he murmured.
Poor generous peasant! His heart would have leaped for joy could he have
cast a glance on the courtyard of the citadel.
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