the General commanded: ‘Be cautious!’ and operations were resumed.
“We had explored every nook and corner of the studio for the past twenty minutes without success, when Le Poittevin thought he would look in the cupboard. As it was quite deep and very dark, I advanced with the candle and looked in. I drew back stupefied. A man, a real live man this time, stood there looking at me! I quickly recovered myself, however, and locked the cupboard door. We then retired a few paces to hold a council.
“Opinions were divided. Sorieul wanted to smoke the burglar out; Le Poittevin suggested starvation, and I proposed to blow him up with dynamite. Le Poittevin’s idea being finally accepted as the best, we proceeded to bring the punch and pipes into the studio, while Le Poittevin kept guard with his big gun on his shoulder, and settling ourselves in front of the cupboard we drank the prisoner’s health. We had done this repeatedly, when Sorieul suggested that we bring out the prisoner and take a look at him.
“ ‘Hooray!’ cried I. We picked up our weapons and made a mad rush for the cupboard door. It was finally opened, and Sorieul, cocking his pistol, which was not loaded, rushed in first. Le Poittevin and I followed yelling like lunatics and, after a mad scramble in the dark, we at last brought out the burglar. He was a haggard-looking, white-haired old bandit, with shabby, ragged clothes. We bound him hand and foot and dropped him in an armchair. He said nothing.
“ ‘We will try this wretch,’ said Sorieul, whom the punch had made very solemn. I was so far gone that it seemed to me quite a natural thing. Le Poittevin was named for the defence and I for the prosecution. The prisoner was condemned to death by all except his counsel.
“ ‘We will now execute him,’ said Sorieul. ‘Still, this man cannot die without repenting,’ he added, feeling somewhat scrupulous. ‘Let us send for a priest.’
“I objected that it was too late, so he proposed that I officiate and forthwith told the prisoner to confess his sins to me. For the past five minutes the old man was rolling his eyes in terror, wondering what kind of wretches we were and for the first time he spoke. His voice was hollow and husky with drink:
“ ‘You don’t mean it, do you?’
“Sorieul forced him to his knees, and for fear he had not been baptised, poured a glass of rum over his head, saying: ‘Confess your sins; your last hour has come!’
“Terrified, the old ruffian began to shout: ‘Help! Help!’ so loudly that we had to gag him, lest he should wake the neighbours.
“Then he rolled on the floor, kicking and twisting, upsetting the furniture, and smashing the canvases. Finally, Sorieul lost his patience, and shouted: ‘Come, let us end this.’ He pointed his pistol at the old man and pressed the trigger, which fell with a sharp click. Carried away by his example, I fired in my turn. My gun, which was a flintlock, gave out a spark, to my surprise. Then Le Poittevin said gravely:
“ ‘Have we really the right to kill this man?’
“ ‘We have condemned him to death!’ said Sorieul, astounded.
“ ‘Yes, but we have no right to shoot a civilian. Let us take him to the police-station. He must be delivered to the executioner.’
“We agreed with him, and as the old man could not walk we tied him to a board, and Le Poittevin and I carried him, while Sorieul, armed to the teeth, kept guard in the rear. At the gate the guard stopped us. The chief, who knew us and was well acquainted with our manner of joking, thought it was a great lark and laughingly refused to take our prisoner in. Sorieul insisted, but the chief told us very sternly to go home and be quiet. The army resumed its march, and we returned to the studio.
“ ‘What are we going to do with him?’ I asked.
“ ‘The poor man must be awfully tired!’ said Le Poittevin, sympathetically.
“He did look half dead, gagged and tied to the plank, and in my turn I felt a sudden pity for him (the punch, no doubt), and I relieved him of his gag.
“ ‘How do you feel, old man?’ I asked.
“ ‘By Jingo! I have enough of this,’ he groaned.
“Then Sorieul became fatherly. He unbound him and made him take a seat, and treated him as a long-lost friend. The three of us immediately brewed a fresh bowl of punch, and the burglar watched us quietly from his armchair. As soon as it was ready we handed a glass to the prisoner, and we would gladly have held up his head. Toast followed toast. The old man could drink more than the three of us put together; but as daylight appeared, he got up and calmly said: ‘I shall be obliged to leave you; I must get home now.’
“We begged him not to go, but he positively refused to stay any longer. So we shook hands with him, and took him to the door, and Sorieul held the candle to light him through the hall, saying: ‘Look out for the step under the outer door.’ ”
Everybody round the storyteller laughed heartily. He got up, lit his pipe, and added, standing straight before us, “The funniest part of my story is that it really happened.”
A Woman’s Confession
You ask me to tell you about the most vivid recollections of my life. I am very old and have neither children nor relatives, and am therefore free to confide in you. Only promise that you will never reveal my name. As you know, I have been very much loved and have myself often loved in return. I was very beautiful; I may say so now that nothing remains of my beauty. To me love was the life of the soul just as air is the life of the body. I would rather have died than lived without affection, without being
