The commandant will come himself."
The prisoner laid his hand upon a chair. "Will you sit? I would
rather it be you than the commandant, if it must be any one. What were
you sent to ask?"
I waved away the chair, for I thought of the passing moments and of
what I had promised Father Carheil. "I must hasten," I said irritably.
"What was I to ask? Why, your name, the account of your capture,--the
story of your being here, in brief."
He saw that I glanced at the door, and he walked over to it. "Wait!"
he interposed. "I can answer you in a line. But one question first.
Monsieur, I--I"--
"Yes, monsieur."
"Monsieur, I--I must think a moment. Be patient, if you will."
His voice was calm, but there was something in his look that forced my
pity. "Tell me nothing that I must not tell the commandant," I warned.
"But be assured of my good will."
I think he did not hear. He sat with his forehead on his hand, and I
knew that he was thinking. He looked up with a new decision in his
glance.
"Monsieur, you lead a strange life in this place. I see nothing but
men. Have you no families?"
I swore under my breath. I had expected some meat from his remark, and
he gave me trivialities.
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