As I had my hands confined in
the strait-waistcoat, the jailor tried to feed me just as a nurse tries
to feed a baby with pap. Now I wasn't going to submit to that, so I
closed my lips as tightly as I could. Then he tried to force my mouth
open and push the spoon in, just as one might force a sick dog's
jaws apart and pour some medicine down its throat. The deuce take
his impertinence! I tried to bite him: that's the truth, and if I had
succeeded in getting his finger between my teeth, it would have stayed
there. However, because I wouldn't be fed like a baby, all the prison
officials raised their hands to heaven in holy horror, and pointed at
me, saying: 'What a terrible man! What an awful rascal!'"
The prisoner seemed to thoroughly enjoy the recollection of the scene he
had described, for he now burst into another hearty laugh, to the great
amazement of Lecoq, and the scandal of Goguet, the smiling clerk.
M. Segmuller also found it difficult to conceal his surprise. "You are
too reasonable, I hope," he said, at last, "to attach any blame to these
men, who, in confining you in a strait-waistcoat, were merely obeying
the orders of their superior officers with the view of protecting you
from your own violent passions."
"Hum!" responded the prisoner, suddenly growing serious. "I do blame
them, however, and if I had one of them in a corner--But, never mind, I
shall get over it. If I know myself aright, I have no more spite in my
composition than a chicken.
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