The Shadow of the GuillotineAs soon as he had gone, Julien began to weep copiously, at the thoughtof dying. After a while he said to himself that, if Madame de Renal hadbeen at Besancon, he would have confessed his weakness to her… .

　　At the moment when he most regretted the absence of that belovedwoman, he heard Mathilde's step.

　　'The worst drawback of a prison,' he thought, 'is that one can neverclose one's door.' All that Mathilde had to say served only to irritate him.

　　She informed him that, on the day of the trial, M. de Valenod, havingin his pocket his appointment as Prefect, had ventured to defy M. de Frilair and indulge himself in the pleasure of condemning Julien to death.

　　'"Whatever induced your friend," M. de Frilair said to me just now, "togo and arouse and attack the petty vanity of that middle-class aristocracy? Why speak of caste? He showed them what they ought to do intheir own political interest: the fools had never thought of it, and wereready to cry. This caste interest blinded their eyes to the horror of condemning a man to death. You must admit that M. Sorel shows great inexperience. If we do not succeed in saving him by an appeal to clemency,his death will be a sort of suicide … "'

　　Mathilde did not, of course, mention to Julien a thing which she herself did not yet suspect; namely, that the Abbe de Frilair, seeing Julien irremediably lost, thought that it would serve his own ambition to aspireto become his successor.

　　Almost out of his mind with helpless rage and vexation: 'Go and heara mass for me,' he said to Mathilde, 'and leave me a moment's peace.'

　　Mathilde, who was extremely jealous already at Madame de Renal's visits and had just heard of her departure, realised the cause of Julien's illhumour and burst into tears.

　　Her grief was genuine, Julien saw this and was all the more irritated.

　　He felt a compelling need of solitude, and how was he to secure it?

　　 Finally Mathilde, having tried every argument to soften him, left himto himself, but almost at that moment Fouque appeared.

　　'I want to be alone,' he said to this faithful friend. And, as he saw himhesitate: 'I am composing a memorial for my appeal to clemency … butanyhow … do me a favour, never to speak to me of death. If I want anyspecial services on the day, let me be the first to mention them.'

　　When Julien had at length secured solitude, he found himself morecrushed and more of a coward than before. What little strength remainedto his enfeebled spirit had been used up in the effort to conceal his condition from Mademoiselle de La Mole and Fouque.

　　Towards evening, a comforting thought came to him:

　　'If this morning, at the moment when death seemed so ugly, I hadbeen warned to prepare for execution, the eye of the public would have beenthe incentive to glory; my gait might perhaps have been a little heavy, likethat of a timid fop on entering a drawing-room. A few perspicaciouspeople, if there be any such among these provincials, might haveguessed my weakness … but no one would have seen it.'

　　And he felt himself relieved of part of his load of misery. 'I am a coward at this moment,' he chanted to himself, 'but no one will know of it.'

　　An almost more disagreeable incident was in store for him on the morrow. For a long time past, his father had been threatening a visit; thatmorning, before Julien was awake, the white-haired old carpenter appeared in his cell.

　　Julien felt utterly weak, he expected the most unpleasant reproaches.

　　To complete his painful sensation, that morning he felt a keen remorse atnot loving his father.

　　'Chance has placed us together on this earth,' he said to himself whilethe turnkey was making the cell a little tidy, 'and we have done one another almost all the harm imaginable. He comes in the hour of my deathto deal me his final blow.'

　　The old man's severe reproaches began as soon as they were leftwithout a witness.

　　Julien could not restrain his tears. 'What unworthy weakness!' he saidto himself angrily. 'He will go about everywhere exaggerating my wantof courage; what a triumph for Valenod and for all the dull hypocriteswho reign at Verrieres! They are very great people in France, they combine all the social advantages. Until now I could at least say to myself:

　　 They receive money, it is true, all the honours are heaped upon them,but I have nobility at heart.

　　'And here is a witness whom they will all believe, and who will assurethe whole of Verrieres, exaggerating the facts, that I have been weak inthe face of death! I shall be said to have turned coward in this trial whichthey can all understand!'

　　Julien was almost in despair. He did not know how to get rid of hisfather. And to make-believe in such a way as to deceive this sharp-wittedold man was, for the moment, utterly beyond his power.

　　His mind ran swiftly over all the possible ways of escape. 'I have savedmoney!' he exclaimed suddenly.

　　This inspired utterance altered the old man's expression and Julien'sown position.

　　'How ought I to dispose of it?' he continued, with more calm: the effectproduced by his words had rid him of all sense of inferiority.

　　The old carpenter was burning with a desire not to allow any of thismoney to escape, a part of which Julien seemed to wish to leave to hisbrothers. He spoke at great length and with heat. Julien managed totease him.

　　'Well, the Lord has given me inspiration for making my testament. Ishall give a thousand francs to each of my brothers, and the remainder toyou.'

　　'Very good,' said the old man, 'that remainder is my due; but sinceGod has been graciously pleased to touch your heart, if you wish to dielike a good Christian, you ought first to pay your debts. There is still thecost of your maintenance and education, which I advanced, and whichyou have forgotten … '

　　'So that is a father's love!' Julien repeated to himself with despair in hisheart, when at length he was alone. Soon the gaoler appeared.

　　'Sir, after a visit from the family, I always bring my lodgers a bottle ofgood champagne. It is a trifle dear, six francs the bottle, but it rejoices theheart.'

　　'Bring three glasses,' Julien told him with boyish glee, 'and send in twoof the prisoners whom I hear walking in the corridor.'

　　The gaoler brought him in two gaolbirds who had repeated their offence and were waiting to be sent back to penal servitude. They were a merry pair of scoundrels and really quite remarkable for cunning, courage and coolness.

　　'If you give me twenty francs,' one of them said to Julien, 'I will tellyou the whole story of my life. It is as good as a play.'

　　'But you will tell me lies?' said Julien.

　　'Not at all,' was the answer; 'my friend here, who wants my twentyfrancs, will give me away if I don't tell the truth.'

　　His history was abominable. It revealed a courageous heart, in whichthere survived but a single passion, the lust for money.

　　After they had left him, Julien was no longer the same man. All his anger with himself had vanished. The piercing grief, envenomed by cowardice, to which he had been a prey since the departure of Madame deRenal, had turned to melancholy.

　　'If I had only been less taken in by appearance,' he told himself, 'Ishould have seen that the drawing-rooms of Paris are inhabited by honest people like my father, or by able rascals like these gaolbirds. They areright, the men in the drawing-r............