“In confinement!  You will be so no longer,” cried the magistrate.  “It is I who must beg you to get well as soon as possible.  Refer to your ambassador if you choose——­”

And he handed the letter to Jacques Collin.  Camusot was glad to be out of a difficulty, to be able to satisfy the public prosecutor, Mesdames de Maufrigneuse and de Serizy.  Nevertheless, he studied his prisoner’s face with cold curiosity while Collin read Esther’s letter; in spite of the apparent genuineness of the feelings it expressed, he said to himself: 

“But it is a face worthy of the hulks, all the same!”

“That is the way to love!” said Jacques Collin, returning the letter.  And he showed Camusot a face bathed in tears.

“If only you knew him,” he went on, “so youthful, so innocent a soul, so splendidly handsome, a child, a poet!—­The impulse to sacrifice oneself to him is irresistible, to satisfy his lightest wish.  That dear boy is so fascinating when he chooses——­”

“And so,” said the magistrate, making a final effort to discover the truth, “you cannot possibly be Jacques Collin——­”

“No, monsieur,” replied the convict.

And Jacques Collin was more entirely Don Carlos Herrera than ever.  In his anxiety to complete his work he went up to the judge, led him to the window, and gave himself the airs of a prince of the Church, assuming a confidential tone: 

“I am so fond of that boy, monsieur, that if it were needful, to spare that idol of my heart a mere discomfort even, that I should be the criminal you take me for, I would surrender,” said he in an undertone.  “I would follow the example of the poor girl who has killed herself for his benefit.  And I beg you, monsieur, to grant me a favor—­namely, to set Lucien at liberty forthwith.”

“My duty forbids it,” said Camusot very good-naturedly; “but if a sinner may make a compromise with heaven, justice too has its softer side, and if you can give me sufficient reasons—­speak; your words will not be taken down.”

“Well, then,” Jacques Collin went on, taken in by Camusot’s apparent goodwill, “I know what that poor boy is suffering at this moment; he is capable of trying to kill himself when he finds himself a prisoner——­”

“Oh! as to that!” said Camusot with a shrug.

“You do not know whom you will oblige by obliging me,” added Jacques Collin, trying to harp on another string.  “You will be doing a service to others more powerful than any Comtesse de Serizy or Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who will never forgive you for having had their letters in your chambers——­” and he pointed to two packets of perfumed papers.  “My Order has a good memory.”

“Monsieur,” said Camusot, “that is enough.  You must find better reasons to give me.  I am as much interested in the prisoner as in public vengeance.”