482 Recollections of a Night of Fever. [ May, 
my power to move it, and, strive all I would, I could not shoot the 
bolt. 
In the midst of my desperate efforts, the key broke—shivered into a 
thousand pieces, as if it had been glass; and there I stood, hopeless, 
helpless, without the possibility of further flight. I had reached my 
utmost limit. 
But how could I be blind to those ponderous bolts and bars, that 
made any lock unnecessary, and were almost too weighty to be lifted ?” 
Nothing short of the hand and hammer of a blacksmith, and those too 
plied for hours, could break down a door with such defences. To draw 
and fasten them was no more than the work of a single instant ; and no 
sooner was this effected than I felt myself as safe as in a castle of triple 
brass. In the triumph and excess of my confidence, I flung open the 
window to look for my baffled enemy, and tauntingly shouted his own 
cry, “ Encore un!” <A voice, close at my ear, returned the cry, 
« Encore un!” At that hateful and hated sound, I reeled round as if 
staggering from a pistol-shot, when—horror !—there was the monster, 
neither all man nor all wolf, but an inexplicable compound of both—a 
thing not to be defined by words ; there he was, hanging over me, closing’ 
me about with his shroud like a serpent with his folds, his face close to 
mine. I gave not a moment’s thought or look to the depth below, but — 
flung myself from the window, and, without knowing how or why, found ~ 
myself a prisoner in the Temple, amongst many others, destined like 
myself to the guillotine. 
Never were mirth and misery so intimately blended as amongst us, 
who could have no other expectation than that of death ; whether to-day 
or to-morrow, was uncertain ; but still death by the edge of the axe, and 
before the week was over. Some wept, and some laughed—some ~ 
prayed, and some danced; and, every time the sun set, its beams fell 
upon diminished numbers, till myself and four others were all that 
remained of the hundreds that filled the prison on my entrance. 
It was the seventh day. Of our little band it was doubtful who, if 
any, would see the next morning; and this very circumstance, this 
community of near danger, had linked our hearts more closely than years 
of friendship could have done, though cemented by rank and fortune. 
But this tie, close as it might be, was destined in a few hours only to 
be snapped asunder by the hand that, sooner or later, breaks all ties. 
The last rays of the sun were dimly melting into shadow, when my 
companions were summoned to attend their judges—a summons that was 
in itself equivalent to a sentence of death ; for with such judges, to try 
was to condemn. We all felt it to beso. Our farewells were accordingly 
warm and earnest, like those of men who were parting never to meet ; 
and in a few minutes I was left to the solitude of my dungeon. q 
Night came on. I knew that I had not another day to live, an 
could count the hours between the present moment and the time whe 
I should cease to be; a knowledge which, whether it be a curse or 
blessing, is granted to none save the criminal doomed to expiate on ear 
his offences against the children of earth. My fancy laboured with 
thousand schemes of escape, none perhaps absolutely impracticable, 
all improbable, and such only as a prisoner would conceive with t 
immediate fear of death before his eyes. » 
In the midst of these imaginings, I was struck by a light, shini 
through a crevice, as it seemed, of the prison-door. Life and libe 
