Papillon Read Free Page B

myself with a mattress and cotton batting. Once I had the villa, I’d find Master Pradel and kidnap him. I’d chain him to the rings in the wall as soon as we arrived. Then my turn would begin....
    I am face to face with him; I see him with extraordinary clarity beneath my closed eyelids. I look at him the same way he looked at me in court. I feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
    The powerful spotlight I’ve aimed at him blinds his vulture’s eyes; they are wild with terror. Huge drops of sweat run down his apopleptic face. Yes, I hear my questions; I listen to his replies. I live the moment intensely.
    “You miserable clod, do you recognize me? It’s me, Papillon. Papillon you so blithely consigned to hard labor for life. Do you think now it was worth all those plodding years to educate yourself, spending all those nights on Roman codes, learning Greek and Latin, sacrificing your youth? To get you where, you bastard? Where you could create a better social code? Convince the mob that peace is the most important thing in the world? Preach a saving new religion? Or simply influence others to become better men, or at least stop being bad? Tell me, did you use your knowledge to save men?
    “You did none of that. Only one ambition moved you. To climb, climb. Climb the ladder of your wretched career. To you, glory was being the best caterer to the bagne , the most generous provider to the hangman and the guillotine.
    “If Deibler * felt a shred of gratitude, he would send you a case of the best champagne at the end of each year. Isn’t it thanks to you, you pig, that he was able to cut off five or six extra heads this year? In any event, I’ve got you now, chained tight to this wall.
    “How well I remember your smile when you heard the verdict, your look of triumph! Well now, my friend, I’m going to change all that. You have one advantage I didn’t have, of course. I couldn’t scream; you can. So go ahead. Scream, scream as much as you like, as loud as you like. What am I going to do with you? Let you starve to death? No, not good enough. First, I’ll gouge out your eyes. No, that comes later. First I’ll cut out your tongue, that terrible tongue, as sharp as a knife—no, sharper than a knife, more like a razor. That tongue you prostituted to your glorious career!”
    I walked and I walked, my head spun, but I stayed face to face with him … until all of a sudden the lamp went out and the pale light of day crept into my cell through the bars of the window.
    How come? Was it morning already? Did I spend the whole night avenging myself? What beautiful hours those were! How fast it went, this long, long night!
    I listened as I sat on my bed. Nothing. Absolute silence. From time to time, a small “tic” on my door. It was the guard in noiseless slippers raising the small iron slide so that he could fasten his eye to the tiny hole and watch me without my seeing him.
    The machinery conceived by the French Republic was now in its second phase. It functioned wonderfully well; the first phase had eliminated a troublesome man. But that wasn’t enough. The man must neither die too quickly, nor must he escape by committing suicide. They needed him. What would the Penal Administration do if there were no prisoners? So he must be watched, and he must go to the bagne in order to justify the lives of other bureaucrats.
    Hearing the “tic” again, I had to smile. Relax, I told them silently, you’re wasting your time. I won’t escape you. At least, not the way you fear—by suicide. I ask only one thing: that I stay as healthy as possible and leave soon for French Guiana.
    Heh, my old prison guard who makes that “tic” all the time, I know your colleagues are no choir boys. You’re a kind papa compared to them. I’ve known this a long time, because when Napoleon III created the bagnes and was asked: “But who will guard these bandits?” he answered: “Worse bandits.” Later on, I was able to confirm the fact