It was evident that these were signals among the prisoners.
Gaston went to the window to raise the curtain of green serge which intercepted the rays of the moon, and in doing so he perceived an object hanging at the end of a string and swinging before the bars.
"Good," said he; "it appears that I shall have occupation, but each one in turn; regularity above all things; let us see what the bell wants, that was the first."
Gaston returned to the chimney, extended his hand, and soon felt a string, at the end of which a bell was hanging, he pulled, but it resisted.
"Good," said a voice, which came down the chimney, "you are there?"
"Yes," said Gaston; "what do you want?"
"Parbleu, I want to talk."
"Very well," said the chevalier, "let us talk."
"Are you not M. de Chanlay, with whom I had the pleasure of dining to-day?"
"Exactly so, monsieur."
"In that case I am at your service."
"And I at yours."
"Then have the goodness to tell me the state of the Bretagne affairs."
"You see they are in the Bastille."
"Good," said a voice, whose joyous tone Gaston could hear with ease.
"Pardon me," said Gaston, "but what interest have you in these affairs?"
"Why, when affairs are bad in Bretagne, they treat us well, and when they prosper we are treated badly; thus the other day, apropos of some affair, I do not know what, which they pretended was connected with ours, we were all put in the dungeon."
"Ah, diable!" said Gaston to himself, "if you do not know, I do." Then he added, aloud, "Well then, monsieur, be content, they are very bad, and that is perhaps the reason why we had the pleasure of dining together to-day."
"Eh, monsieur, are you compromised?"
"I fear so."
"Receive my excuses."
"I beg you, on the contrary, to accept mine, but I have a neighbor below who is becoming impatient, and who is striking hard enough to break the boards of my floor; permit me to reply to him."
"Do so, monsieur; if my topographical calculations are correct, it must be the Marquis de Pompadour."
"It will be difficult to ascertain."
"Not so difficult as you suppose."
"How so?"
"Does he not strike in a peculiar manner?"
"Yes; has it a meaning?"
"Certainly; it is our method of talking without direct communication."
"Have the kindness to give me the key to the vocabulary."
"It is not difficult; every letter has a rank in the alphabet."
"Decidedly."
"There are twenty-four letters."
"I have never counted them, but no doubt you are right."
"Well, one blow for a, two for b, three for c, and so on."
"I understand, but this method of communication must be somewhat lengthy, and I see a string at my window which is getting impatient--I will strike a blow or two to show my neighbor that I have heard him, and then attend to the string."
"Go, monsieur, I beg, for if I am not mistaken that string is of importance to me; but first strike three blows on the floor--in Bastille language that means patience; the prisoner will then wait for a new signal."
Gaston struck three blows with the leg of his chair, and the noise ceased.
He then went to the window.
It was not easy to reach the bars, but he at length succeeded in doing so and raising the string, which was gently pulled by some hand as a sign of acknowledgment.
Gaston drew the packet--which would scarcely pa.s.s the bars--toward him; it contained a pot of sweetmeats and a book. He saw that there was something written on the paper which covered the pot, but it was too dark to read it.
The string vibrated gently, to show that an answer was expected, and Gaston, remembering his neighbor"s lesson, took a broom, which he saw in the corner, and struck three blows on the ceiling.
This, it will be remembered, meant patience.
The prisoner withdrew the string, freed from its burden.
Gaston returned to the chimney.
"Eh! monsieur," said he.
"All right, what is it?"
"I have just received, by means of a string, a pot of sweets and a book."
"Is not there something written on one of them?"
"About the book I do not know, but there is on the pot; unfortunately it is too dark to read."