Fie, then! Look at the birds, my pretty, look at the birds.' He looked sharply at the birds himself, as he held the child up at the grate, especially at the little bird, whose activity he seemed to mistrust.

'I have brought your bread, Signor John Baptist,' said he (they all spoke in French, but the little man was an Italian); 'and if I might recommend you not to game--' 'You don't recommend the master!' said John Baptist, showing his teeth as he smiled.
'Oh! but the master wins,' returned the jailer, with a passing look of no particular liking at the other man, 'and you lose.

It's quite another thing.

You get husky bread and sour drink by it; and he gets sausage of Lyons, veal in savoury jelly, white bread, strachino cheese, and good wine by it.

Look at the birds, my pretty!' 'Poor birds!' said the child.
The fair little face, touched with divine compassion, as it peeped shrinkingly through the grate, was like an angel's in the prison.