The waking traveller, therefore, stole a little nearer, and yet a little

nearer, and a little nearer to the sleeping traveller's bed, until he

stood close beside it. Even then he could not see his face, for he had

drawn the sheet over it. The regular breathing still continuing, he put

his smooth white hand (such a treacherous hand it looked, as it went

creeping from him!) to the sheet, and gently lifted it away.

'Death of my soul!' he whispered, falling back, 'here's Cavalletto!'

The little Italian, previously influenced in his sleep, perhaps, by the

stealthy presence at his bedside, stopped in his regular breathing, and

with a long deep respiration opened his eyes. At first they were not

awake, though open. He lay for some seconds looking placidly at his

old prison companion, and then, all at once, with a cry of surprise and

alarm, sprang out of bed. 'Hush! What's the matter? Keep quiet! It's I. You know me?' cried the

other, in a suppressed voice.

But John Baptist, widely staring, muttering a number of invocations

and ejaculations, tremblingly backing into a corner, slipping on

his trousers, and tying his coat by the two sleeves round his neck,

manifested an unmistakable desire to escape by the door rather than

renew the acquaintance. Seeing this, his old prison comrade fell back

upon the door, and set his shoulders against it.

'Cavalletto! Wake, boy! Rub your eyes and look at me. Not the name you

used to call me--don't use that--Lagnier, say Lagnier!' John Baptist, staring at him with eyes opened to their utmost width,

made a number of those national, backhanded shakes of the right

forefinger in the air, as if he were resolved on negativing beforehand

everything that the other could possibly advance during the whole term

of his life.

'Cavalletto! Give me your hand. You know Lagnier, the gentleman. Touch

the hand of a gentleman!' Submitting himself to the old tone of condescending authority, John

Baptist, not at all steady on his legs as yet, advanced and put his

hand in his patron's. Monsieur Lagnier laughed; and having given it a

squeeze, tossed it up and let it go.

'Then you were--' faltered John Baptist.

'Not shaved? No. See here!' cried Lagnier, giving his head a twirl; 'as

tight on as your own.' John Baptist, with a slight shiver, looked all round the room as if to

recall where he was.

His patron took that opportunity of turning the key

in the door, and then sat down upon his bed.

'Look!' he said, holding up his shoes and gaiters. 'That's a poor trim

for a gentleman, you'll say. No matter, you shall see how Soon I'll mend

it. Come and sit down. Take your old place!'




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