I was loath to do this, for I knew that it hurt his self-respect, but it had to be, and in this humiliating manner I dragged him along to the Clichy prison, where M. Acquin was serving his sentence. For some moments I looked in a sort of fear at the great prison doors, thinking that perhaps once they had closed on me I might not be able to get out again. I found it more difficult than I had thought to get into a prison, but I would not be discouraged. After much waiting and questioning, I was finally permitted to see M. Acquin.
"Ah, Remi, boy, I was expecting you," he said, as I entered the room where visitors were allowed to see the prisoners. "I scolded Aunt Catherine for not bringing you with the others."
I brightened up at these words.
"The children tell me that you are going on your wanderings again. Have you forgotten that you almost died of cold and hunger, my boy?"
"No, I've not forgotten that."
"You were not alone then; you had some one to look after you. At your age I don't think it is right to go tramping across the country alone."
"You don't want me to bring you news of your children, then?" I asked.
"They told me that you were going to see them all, one after the other," he replied, "but I am not thinking of us when I ask you to give up this wandering life."
"And if I do what you ask I should be thinking of myself and not of you ... of Lise."
