He lay for some seconds looking placidly at his old prison companion, and then, all at once, with a cry of surprise and alarm, sprang out of bed.
'Hush! What's the matter?
Keep quiet! It's I.You know me ?' cried the other, in a suppressed voice.
But John Baptist, widely staring, muttering a number of invocations and ejaculations, tremblingly backing into a corner, slipping on his trousers, and tying his coat by the two sleeves round his neck, manifested an unmistakable desire to escape by the door rather than renew the acquaintance.

Seeing this, his old prison comrade fell back upon the door, and set his shoulders against it.
'Cavalletto! Wake, boy! Rub your eyes and look at me.

Not the name you used to call me--don't use that--Lagnier, say Lagnier!' John Baptist, staring at him with eyes opened to their utmost width, made a number of those national, backhanded shakes of the right forefinger in the air, as if he were resolved on negativing beforehand everything that the other could possibly advance during the whole term of his life.
'Cavalletto! Give me your hand.

You know Lagnier, the gentleman.

Touch the hand of a gentleman!' Submitting himself to the old tone of condescending authority, John Baptist, not at all steady on his legs as yet, advanced and put his hand in his patron's.