he place
was sheathed in rough woodwork, thick enough to make the square hole
into which he was put both healthy and habitable. The door, like that
of a pig-pen, was so low that he stooped almost double on entering
it. Beside this door was a heavy iron grating, opening upon a sort of
corridor, which gave a little light and a little air. This arrangement,
in all respects like that of the dungeons of Venice, showed plainly
that the architecture of the chateau of Blois belonged to the Venetian
school, which during the Middle Ages, sent so many builders into all
parts of Europe. By tapping this species of pit above the woodwork
Christophe discovered that the walls which separated his cell to right
and left from the adjoining ones were made of brick. Striking one of
them to get an idea of its thickness, he was somewhat surprised to hear
return blows given on the other side.

"Who are you?" said his neighbor, speaking to him through the corridor.

"I am Christophe Lecamus."

"I," replied the voice, "am Captain Chaudieu, brother of the minister. I
was taken prisoner to-night at Beaugency; but, luckily, there is nothing
against me."

"All is discovered," said Christophe; "you are fortunate to be saved
from the fray."

"We have three thousand men at this moment in the forests of the
Vendomois, all determined men, who mean to abduct the king and the
queen-mother during their journey. Happily La Renaudie was cleverer than
I; he managed to escape. You had only just left us when the Guise men
surprised us--"

"But I don't know La Renaudie."

"Pooh! my brother has told me all about it," said the captain.

Hearing that, Christophe sat down upon his bench and made no further
answer to the pretended captain, for he knew enough of the police to
be aware how necessary it was to act with prudence in a prison. In the
middle of the night he saw the pale light of a lantern in the corridor,
after hearing the ponderous locks of the iron door which closed the
cellar groan as they were turned. The provost himself had come to fetch
Christophe. This attention to a prisoner who had been left in his dark
dungeon for hours without food, struck the poor lad as singular. One of
the provost's men bound his hands with a rope and held him by the end
of it until they reached one of the lower halls of the chateau of Louis
XII., which was evidently the antechamber to the apartments of some
important personage. The provost and his men bade him sit up