A good woman pointed out your house to me, and said to me, `Knock there!'
I have knocked. What is this place?
Do you keep an inn?
I have money--savings. One hundred and nine francs fifteen sous, which I earned in the galleys by my labor, in the course of nineteen years. I will pay.
What is that to me?
I have money.
I am very weary; twelve leagues on foot; I am very hungry.
Are you willing that I should remain?"
"Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, "you will set another place."
The man advanced three paces, and approached the lamp which was on the table.
"Stop," he resumed, as though he had not quite understood; "that's not it.
Did you hear?
I am a galley-slave; a convict. I come from the galleys."
He drew from his pocket a large sheet of yellow paper, which he unfolded.
"Here's my passport.
Yellow, as you see.
This serves to expel me from every place where I go. Will you read it?
I know how to read.
I learned in the galleys. There is a school there for those who choose to learn.
Hold, this is what they put on this passport: