"Wait," said the voice, "I will send a light."
"I thought lights were forbidden."
"Yes, but I have procured one."
"Well, then send it, for I am as impatient as you to know what is written to me." And Gaston, feeling cold, began to dress himself.
All at once he saw a light in his chimney; the bell came down again transformed into a lantern.
This transformation was effected in the most simple manner, the bell turned upside down, so as to form a vessel, into which some oil had been poured, and in the oil burned a little wick.
Gaston found this so ingenious that for a moment he forgot both the pot and the book. "Monsieur," said he to his neighbor, "may I, without indiscretion, ask you how you procured the different objects with which you fabricated this lamp?"
"Nothing more simple, monsieur; I asked for a bell, which was given me, then I saved some oil from my breakfasts and dinners, till I had a bottle full; I made wicks by unraveling one of my handkerchiefs; I picked up a pebble when I was walking in the yard; I made some tinder with burned linen; I stole some matches when I dined at the governor"s: then I struck a light with a knife, which I possess; and with the aid of which I made the hole through which we correspond."
"Receive my compliments, monsieur, you are a man of great invention."
"Thank you, monsieur; will you now see what book has been sent you, and what is written on the paper of the pot of sweetmeats."
"Monsieur, the book is a Virgil."
"That is it--she promised it to me," cried the voice, in an accent of happiness which surprised the chevalier, who could not understand that a Virgil should be so impatiently expected.
"Now," said the prisoner with the bell, "pa.s.s on, I beg, to the pot of sweetmeats."
"Willingly," said Gaston, and he read:
"MONSIEUR LE CHEVALIER--I hear from the lieutenant of the prison that you occupy the room on the first floor, which has a window immediately below mine. Prisoners should aid and help each other; eat the sweetmeats, and pa.s.s the Virgil up to the Chevalier Dumesnil, whose chimney looks into the court."
"That is what is expected," said the prisoner with the bell; "I was told at dinner to-day that I should receive this message."
"Then you are the Chevalier Dumesnil?"
"Yes, monsieur, and your humble servant."
"I am yours," replied Gaston, "I have to thank you for a pot of sweetmeats, and I shall not forget my obligation."
"In that case, monsieur," replied the prisoner, "have the kindness to detach the bell, and fasten on the Virgil instead."
"But if you have not the light, you cannot read."
"Oh, I will make another lantern."
Gaston, who trusted to his neighbor"s ingenuity, after the proofs he had had of it, made no further difficulties; he took the bell, which he placed in the neck of an empty bottle, and fastened on the Virgil, conscientiously replacing a letter which fell from between the leaves.
"Thank you, monsieur," said Dumesnil; "and now, if you will reply to your neighbor below?"
"You give me liberty?"
"Yes, monsieur; though presently I shall make an appeal to your good nature."
"At your orders, monsieur; you say, then, that for the letters----?"
"One blow for A.; twenty-four for Z."
"Thank you."
The chevalier struck a blow with the handle of the broom, to give notice to his neighbor that he was ready to enter into conversation with him; it was instantly answered by another blow.
At the end of half an hour the prisoners had succeeded in saying this--
"Good-evening, monsieur; what is your name?"
"Thank you, monsieur; I am the Chevalier Gaston de Chanlay."
"And I, the Marquis de Pompadour."
At this moment Gaston, looking toward the windows, saw the string shaking convulsively.
He struck three blows, to ask for patience, and returned to the chimney.
"Monsieur," said he to Dumesnil, "I beg you to remember that the string at the window seems prodigiously ennuye."
"Beg her to have patience; I will attend to her presently."
Gaston renewed the signal for patience on the ceiling, and then returned to the chimney, and the Virgil soon returned.
"Monsieur," said Dumesnil, "have the goodness to fasten the Virgil to the string; that is what she wants."
Gaston had the curiosity to see if Dumesnil had replied to Mademoiselle de Launay. He opened the Virgil; there was no letter, but some words were underlined in pencil, and Gaston read: "Meos amores," and "Carceris oblivia longa." He understood this method of correspondence, which consisted in underlining words which, placed together, made sense.
"Ah," said Gaston, fastening the book to the string, "it seems that I have become the postman."
Then he sighed deeply, remembering that he had no means of corresponding with Helene, and that she was entirely ignorant what had become of him.
This gave him sympathy for the attachment of Mademoiselle de Launay and the Chevalier Dumesnil. He returned to the chimney.
"Monsieur," said he, "your letter is dispatched."
"A thousand thanks, chevalier. Now a word more, and I will leave you to sleep in peace."
"Oh, say whatever you wish, monsieur."
"Have you spoken with the prisoner below?"
"Yes."
"Who is he?"