"And I only want to beg you to do what you can to soften his lot--a
hard lot it is, too."

"I can do nothing, I tell you," said the porter; "I never see the
prisoners."

"I thought--"

"At least, when I say never, I mean only when they are allowed to walk
in the prison yard."

"That is here?"

"Yes."

"When is that?"

"Once a day; sometimes more than that, if the doctor orders it."

"The doctor must order it, then?" said the cripple to himself.

"What is your son in for?" asked the porter.

"For an unfortunate resemblance he bears to a notorious brigand."

"Bah!" exclaimed the porter. "They don't imprison a man for being like
another."

"Yes, they do; my unlucky son has been taken for Mathias the brigand."