Our question of "What are you in for?"
aroused him. "False signing a billet of twenty thousand francs," replied
he, with a shrug and a smile. "And he, your neighbour?" asked we
cautiously, concerning one of a fine, thoughtful, philosophic, and
passionate countenance. "Ha! you may ask--he gave his mistress a potion,
for the purpose of merely seducing her, and it turned out to be
poison--a _carabin_ like yourselves." But these made no part of the
_chaine_.
The convicts destined for this operation were kept in movement round a
post in an adjoining court, and were shouting, rarely in intelligible
language, to their companions. Joy was the universal tone, and a
sniveller ran imminent danger. One poor fellow I remarked holding down
his head, when he was saluted with a kick from him who followed, and the
objurgation, _Tu es forcat, toi, heim?_--"You a convict, and durst be
sad." These men were all unmanacled. Methought a general rush on their
part both practicable and formidable. One half must have perished, and
the other half might have escaped.
They were now marched out from the inner court in batches of thirty at a
time, drawn up in rank, stripped, and examined with such rigid scrutiny
as I dare not precise. They were then marched and placed along one of
the extended chains, and made to sit down, resting it in their laps.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50