Let's begin. Part three.

Monsieur Louis, sitting in the very center of the stone room looked dejected. His old face bore all shades of sadness. His wrinkled hands trembled and tried to soothe each other. His face, distorted by old age, was the same as the stone wall, which was moldy in places. The marks of time were too deep. 

Adelard's heart ached at the sight of the suffering that was his fault. It was hard for him to look at an overly old man who suddenly found himself behind bars. And yet freedom was in his blood. Perhaps Adelard thought too loudly, for Monsieur Louis looked up and froze. 

In a matter of seconds, all the colors of hatred appeared on his face. He saw his worst enemy. 

"Sit down and don't move! One move and you'll spend another ten years in here!" the gendarme shouted, hitting the bars with his stick. 

"Please don't do that," Adelard said quietly. "Can I talk to him?" 

"If I leave you here, I think they'll all just break the bars