"Come, Daddy Micou, don't get vexed; it is yes or no; I do not force you.
But enough."

The receiver, reflecting that he was at the mercy of Nicholas, arose,
fearing to be assailed with new demands if he prolonged his visit.

"You shall have your cap," said he; "but take care, if you ask me for
anything more, I shall give nothing; happen what may, you will lose as much
as I."

"Be tranquil, Micou; I shall not blackmail you any more than is necessary,
for this would be a pity; you pay much heavy postage as it is."

The receiver went out, shrugging his shoulders with rage, and the warder
reconducted Nicholas into the prison. At the moment Micou left, Rigolette
entered.

The warder, a man of forty years, an old soldier of energetic appearance,
was dressed in a jacket, cap, and trousers of blue cloth; two silver stars
were embroidered on the collar and skirts of his coat.

At sight of the grisette, his face brightened up, and assumed an expression
of affectionate benevolence. He had always been struck with the grace,
gentility, and touching goodness with which Rigolette consoled Germain when
she came to converse with him. Germain, on his part, was no ordinary
prisoner. His reserve, his mildness, his sadness, inspired interest in the
prison officials; an interest they were careful not to show him, for fear
of exposing him to the bad treatment of his vicious companions, who, as we
have shown, regarded him with suspicious hatred.