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over there； Algiers over there。 Creeping away to the left here； Nice。
Round by the Cornice to Genoa。 Genoa Mole and Harbour。 Quarantine
Ground。 City there； terrace gardens blushing with the bella donna。 Here；
Porto Fino。 Stand out for Leghorn。 Out again for Civita Vecchia； so away
to……hey！ there's no room for Naples；' he had got to the wall by this
time； 'but it's all one； it's in there！'
He remained on his knees； looking up at his fellow…prisoner with a
lively look for a prison。 A sunburnt； quick； lithe； little man； though
rather thickset。 Earrings in his brown ears； white teeth lighting up his
grotesque brown face； intensely black hair clustering about his brown
throat； a ragged red shirt open at his brown breast。 Loose； seaman…like
trousers； decent shoes； a long red cap； a red sash round his waist； and
a knife in it。
'Judge if I e back from Naples as I went！ See here； my master！ Civita
Vecchia； Leghorn； Porto Fino； Genoa； Cornice； Off Nice （which is in
there）； Marseilles； you and me。 The apartment of the jailer and his keys
is where I put this thumb； and here at my wrist they keep the national
razor in its case……the guillotine locked up。'
The other man spat suddenly on the pavement； and gurgled in his throat。
Some lock below gurgled in its throat immediately afterwards； and then
a door crashed。 Slow steps began ascending the stairs； the prattle of
a sweet little voice mingled with the noise they made； and the
prison…keeper appeared carrying his daughter； three or four years old；
and a basket。
'How goes the world this forenoon； gentlemen？ My little one； you see；
going round with me to have a peep at her father's birds。 Fie； then！
Look at the birds； my pretty； look at the birds。'
He looked sharply at the birds himself； as he held the child up at
the grate； especially at the little bird； whose activity he seemed to
mistrust。 'I have brought your bread； Signor John Baptist；' said he
（they all spoke in French； but the little man was an Italian）； 'and if I
might remend you not to game……'
'You don't remend the master！' said John Baptist； showing his teeth
as he smiled。
'Oh！ but the master wins；' returned the jailer； with a passing look of
no particular liking at the other man； 'and you lose。 It's quite another
thing。 You get husky bread and sour drink by it； and he gets sausage of
Lyons； veal in savoury jelly； white bread； strachino cheese； and good
wine by it。 Look at the birds； my pretty！'
'Poor birds！' said the child。
The fair little face； touched with divine passion； as it peeped
shrinkingly through the grate； was like an angel's in the prison。 John
Baptist rose and moved towards it； as if it had a good attraction for
him。 The other bird remained as before； except for an impatient glance
at the basket。
'Stay！' said the jailer； putting his little daughter on the outer ledge
of the grate； 'she shall feed the birds。 This big loaf is for Signor
John Baptist。 We must break it to get it through into the cage。 So；
there's a tame bird to kiss the little hand！ This sausage in a vine
leaf is for Monsieur Rigaud。 Again……this veal in savoury jelly is for
Monsieur Rigaud。 Again……these three white little loaves are for Monsieur
Rigaud。 Again； this cheese……again； this wine……again； this tobacco……all
for Monsieur Rigaud。 Lucky bird！'
The child put all these things between the bars into the soft； Smooth；
well…shaped hand； with evident dread……more than once drawing back
her own and looking at the man with her fair brow roughened into an
expression half of fright and half of anger。 Whereas she had put the
lump of coarse bread into the swart； scaled； knotted hands of John
Baptist （who had scarcely as much nail on his eight fingers and two
thumbs as would have made out one for Monsieur Rigaud）； with ready
confidence； and； when he kissed her hand； had herself passed it
caressingly over his face。 Monsieur Rigaud； indifferent to this
distinction； propitiated the father by laughing and nodding at the
daughter as often as she gave him anything； and； so soon as he had
all his viands about him in convenient nooks of the ledge on which he
rested； began to eat with an appetite。
When Monsieur Rigaud laughed； a change took place in his face； that
was more remarkable than prepossessing。 His moustache went up under his
nose； and his nose came down over his moustache； in a very sinister and
cruel manner。
'There！' said the jailer； turning his basket upside down to beat the
crumbs out； 'I have expended all the money I received； here is the note
of it； and that's a thing acplished。 Monsieur Rigaud； as I expected
yesterday； the President will look for the pleasure of your society at
an hour after mid…day； to…day。'
'To try me； eh？' said Rigaud； pausing； knife in hand and morsel in
mouth。
'You have said it。 To try you。'
'There is no news for me？' asked John Baptist； who had begun；
contentedly； to munch his bread。
The jailer shrugged his shoulders。
'Lady of mine！ Am I to lie here all my life； my father？'
'What do I know！' cried the jailer； turning upon him with southern
quickness； and gesticulating with both his hands and all his fingers；
as if he were threatening to tear him to pieces。 'My friend； how is it
possible for me to tell how long you are to lie here？ What do I know；
John Baptist Cavalletto？ Death of my life！ There are prisoners here
sometimes； who are not in such a devil of a hurry to be tried。' He
seemed to glance obliquely at Monsieur Rigaud in this remark； but
Monsieur Rigaud had already resumed his meal； though not with quite so
quick an appetite as before。
'Adieu； my birds！' said the keeper of the prison； taking his pretty
child in his arms； and dictating the words with a kiss。
'Adieu； my birds！' the pretty child repeated。
Her innocent face looked back so brightly over his shoulder； as he
walked away with her； singing her the song of the child's game：
'Who passes by this road so late？
pagnon de la Majolaine！
Who passes by this road so late？
Always gay！'
that John Baptist felt it a point of honour to reply at the grate； and
in good time and tune； though a little hoarsely：
'Of all the king's knights 'tis the flower；
pagnon de la Majolaine！
Of all the king's knights 'tis the flower；
Always gay！'
which acpanied them so far down the few steep stairs； that the
prison…keeper had to stop at last for his little daughter to hear the
song out； and repeat the Refrain while they were yet in sight。 Then the
child's head disappeared； and the prison…keeper's head disappeared； but
the little voice prolonged the strain until the door clashed。
Monsieur Rigaud； finding the listening John Baptist in his way before
the echoes had ceased （even the echoes were the weaker for imprisonment；
and seemed to lag）； reminded him with a push of his foot that he had
better resume his own darker place。 The little man sat down again
upon the pavement with the negligent ease of one who was thoroughly
accustomed to pavements； and placing three hunks of coarse bread before
himself； and falling to upon a fourth； began contentedly to work his way
through them as if