Page 617 sur 896

"My dear friend, I have a charmed life in this city. I have been

a Bastille prisoner. There is no patriot in Paris--in Paris? In

France--who, knowing me to have been a prisoner in the Bastille,

would touch me, except to overwhelm me with embraces, or carry me

in triumph. My old pain has given me a power that has brought us

through the barrier, and gained us news of Charles there, and

brought us here. I knew it would be so; I knew I could help

Charles out of all danger; I told Lucie so.--What is that noise?"

His hand was again upon the window.

"Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry, absolutely desperate. "No, Lucie,

my dear, nor you!" He got his arm round her, and held her. "Don't

be so terrified, my love. I solemnly swear to you that I know of

no harm having happened to Charles; that I had no suspicion even

of his being in this fatal place. What prison is he in?"

"La Force!"