and to thank the kind
friends who are keeping you out of mischief."

Having finished this pretty speech he took his departure, the door was
fastened, and Francois began his watch for the night. Afraid, perhaps,
of falling asleep, he stalked up and down the room, stopping
occasionally beside my bed to hope that monsieur found himself well.
Francois was more polished than Pierre, and certainly replied to my
questions. Only, whatever I asked, he answered, "I am truly sorry,
monsieur, but I do not know."

The fellow might have been a talking bird that had been taught to
repeat but one sentence. As a last effort I offered him a heavy bribe
for his information, but he was too honest to betray his trust, or,
which was just as probable, he had no wares of any marketable value.

I slept that night by fits and starts, but whether asleep or awake my
mind was filled with omens of evil. What was happening in the outside
world? Again and again I asked the question without finding any answer.

Spurred on by my fears, I began to dream of escape, but the adventure
was so absolutely impossible that I had to abandon the idea. My arms
were tightly bound; Francois walked up and down, ever watchful and
alert, carrying his half pike; outside the door lay Pierre with his
huge club, while Pillot was within call; and I had a suspicion that he
was not the least capable of my gaolers. No, it was evident that I
must wait till a more favourable opportunity presented itself.

I watched the earliest streaks of light streaming through the barred
window, and, though it was summer time, I shivered with cold. The dawn
broadened, became morning; a few wandering sunbeams that had lost their
way came peeping through the bars and cheered me, though their stay was
brief. Later, sounds of life arose outside; I heard Pierre's deep
tones, followed by Pillot's milder ones, and presently the door was
opened.

Now, had my arms been free at this moment I would have made a dash for
liberty, in spite of Pierre's club and Pillot's pistols, but, in the
circumstances, it was madness to think of such a venture; so I lay
still. Francois by now was almost too sleepy to walk straight, and
Pillot, bright, fresh, alert as a bird, entered on the duties of gaoler.

The prisoner who feeds with his keeper is not likely to starve, and I
certainly cannot accuse my captors of being niggardly in the matter of
food. On this particular morning Pillot was too agitated to