In the Days of My Youth Part 63

"By a number of little things--by this, for instance," replied Muller, kicking his heels against the sea-chest; "by certain words you make use of now and then; by the way you walk; by the way you tie your cravat.

_Que diable_! you look at me as if you took me for a sorcerer!"

The model shook his head.

"I don't understand it," he said, slowly.

"Nay, I could tell you more than that if I liked," said Muller, with an air of mystery.

"About myself?"

"Ay, about yourself, and others."

Guichet, having just lighted his cigar, forgot to put it to his lips.

"What others?" he asked, with a look half of dull bewilderment and half of apprehension.

Muller shrugged his shoulders.

"Pshaw!" said he; "I know more than you think I know, Guichet. There's our friend, you know--he of whom I made the head t'other day ... you remember?"

The model, still looking at him, made no answer.

"Why didn't you say at once where you had met him, and all the rest of it, _mon vieux_? You might have been sure I should find out for myself, sooner or later."

The model turned abruptly towards the fire-place, and, leaning his head against the mantel-shelf, stood with his back towards us, looking down into the fire.

"You ask me why I did not tell you at once?" he said, very slowly.

"Ay--why not?"

"Why not? Because--because when a man has begun to lead an honest life, and has gone on leading an honest life, as I have, for years, he is glad to put the past behind him--to forget it, and all belonging to it. How was I to guess you knew anything about--about that place _la bas_?"

"And why should I not know about it?" replied Muller, flas.h.i.+ng a rapid glance at me.

Guichet was silent.

"What if I tell you that I am particularly interested in--that place _la bas_?"

"Well, that may be. People used to come sometimes, I remember--artists and writers, and so on."

"Naturally."

"But I don't remember to have ever seen you, M'sieur Muller."

"You did not observe me, _mon cher_--or it may have been before, or after your time."

"Yes, that's true," replied Guichet, ponderingly. "How long ago was it, M'sieur Muller?"

Muller glanced at me again. His game, hitherto so easy, was beginning to grow difficult.

"Eh, _mon Dieu_!" he said, indifferently, "how can I tell? I have knocked about too much, now here, now there, in the course of my life, to remember in what particular year this or that event may have happened. I am not good at dates, and never was."

"But you remember seeing me there?"

"Have I not said so?"

Guichet took a couple of turns about the room. He looked flushed and embarra.s.sed.

"There is one thing I should like to know," he said, abruptly. "Where was I? What was I doing when you saw me?"

Muller was at fault now, for the first time.

"Where were you?" he repeated. "Why, there--where we said just now. _La bas_."

"No, no--that's not what I mean. Was I .... was I in the uniform of the Garde Chiourme?"

The color rushed into Muller's face as, flas.h.i.+ng a glance of exultation at me, he replied:--

"a.s.suredly, _mon ami_. In that, and no other."

The model drew a deep breath.

"And Bras de Fer?" he said. "Was he working in the quarries ?"

"Bras de Fer! Was that the name he went by in those days?"

"Ay--Bras de Fer--_alias_ Coupe-gorge--_alias_ Triphot--_alias_ Lenoir--_alias_ a hundred other names. Bras de Fer was the one he went by at Toulon--and a real devil he was in the Bagnes! He escaped three times, and was twice caught and brought back again. The third time he killed one sentry, injured another for life, and got clear off. That was five years ago, and I left soon after. I suppose, if you saw him in Paris the other day, he has kept clear of Toulon ever since."

"But was he in for life?" said Muller, eagerly.

"_Travaux forces a perpetuite_," replied Guichet, touching his own shoulder significantly with the thumb of his right hand.

Muller sprang to his feet.

"Enough," he said. "That is all I wanted to know. Guichet, _mon cher_, I am your debtor for life. We will talk about the sittings when you have more time to dispose of. Adieu."

"But, M'sieur Muller, you won't get me into trouble!" exclaimed the model, eagerly. "You won't make any use of my words?"

"Why, supposing I went direct to the Prefecture, what trouble could I possibly get you into, _mon ami?_" replied Muller.

The model looked down in silence.

"You are a brave man. You do not fear the vengeance of Bras de Fer, or his friends?"

"No, M'sieur---it's not that."

"What is it, then?"

"M'sieur...."