The des Vanneaulx had promised a reward to the police, and the police
kept constant watch on the obstinate silence of the prisoner. When the
man on duty looked through a loophole made for the purpose he saw the
convict always in the same position, bound in the straight-jacket, his
head secured by a leather thong ever since he had attempted to tear
the stuff of the jacket with his teeth.

Jean-Francois gazed steadily at the ceiling with a fixed and
despairing eye, a burning eye, as if reddened by the terrible thoughts
behind it. He was a living image of the antique Prometheus; the memory
of some lost happiness gnawed at his heart. When the solicitor-general
himself went to see him that magistrate could not help testifying his
surprise at a character so obstinately persistent. No sooner did any
one enter his cell than Jean-Francois flew into a frenzy which
exceeded the limits known to physicians for such attacks. The moment
he heard the key turn in the lock or the bolts of the barred door
slide, a light foam whitened his lips.

Jean-Francois Tascheron, then twenty-five years of age, was small but
well-made. His wiry, crinkled hair, growing low on his forehead,
indicated energy. His eyes, of a clear and luminous yellow, were too
near the root of the nose,--a defect which gave him some resemblance
to birds of prey. The face was round, of the warm brown coloring which
marks the inhabitants of middle France. One feature of his physiognomy
confirmed an assertion of Lavater as to persons who are destined to
commit murder; his front teeth lapped each other. Nevertheless his
face bore all the characteristics of integrity and a sweet and artless
moral nature; there was nothing surprising in the fact that a woman
had loved him passionately. His fresh mouth with its dazzling teeth
was charming, but the vermilion of the lips was of the red-lead tint