He does not know whether he is asleep or awake.
"Open, my friend, I say, open and have confidence.

I have discovered your secret.

I shall say nothing about it.

On the other hand, I may be of use to you." The poor man looks more at ease, although he does not move.
"You are a Roumanian, I think," I add, "and I am a Frenchman." "Frenchman?
You are a Frenchman ?" And this reply was given in my own language, with a foreign accent.
One more bond between us.
The panel slips along its groove, and by the light of a little lamp I can examine my No.

11, to whom I shall be able to give a less arithmetical designation.
"No one can see us, nor hear us ?" he asked in a half-stifled voice.
"No one." "The guard ?" "Asleep." My new friend takes my hands, he clasps them.