Chopin, of whom she
tells us that--

The mournful cry of the famished eagle and the gloomy
desolation of the yew trees covered with snow saddened him
much longer and more keenly than the perfume of the orange
trees, the gracefulness of the vines, and the Moorish song of
the labourers gladdened him.

The above-quoted letters have already given us some hints of how the
prisoners of Valdemosa passed their time. In the morning there
were first the day's provisions to be procured and the rooms to be
tidied--which latter business could not be entrusted to Maria Antonia
without the sacrifice of their night's rest. [FOOTNOTE: George Sand's
share of the household work was not so great as she wished to make the
readers of Un Hiver a Majorque believe, for it consisted, as we gather
from her letters, only in giving a helping hand to her maid, who had
undertaken to cook and clean up, but found that her strength fell short
of the requirements.] Then George Sand would teach her children for
some hours. These lessons over, the young ones ran about and amused
themselves for the rest of the day, while their mother sat down to
her literary studies and labours. In the evening they either strolled
together through the moonlit cloisters or read in their cell, half of
the night being generally devoted by the novelist to writing. George
Sand says in the "Histoire de ma Vie" that she wrote a good deal and
read beautiful philosophical and historical works when she was not
nursing her friend. The latter, however, took up much of her time, and
prevented her from getting out much, for he did not like to be left
alone, nor, indeed, could he safely be left long alone. Sometimes
she and her children would set out on an expedition of discovery, and
satisfy their curiosity and pleasantly while away an hour or two in
examining the various parts of the vast aggregation of buildings; or the
whole party would sit round the stove and laugh over the rehearsal of
the morning's transactions with the villagers. Once they witnessed even
a ball in this sanctuary. It was on Shrove-Tuesday, after dark, that
their attention was roused by a strange, crackling noise. On going to
the door of their cell they could see nothing, but they heard the noise
approaching. After a little there appeared at the opposite end of the
cloister a faint glimmer of white light, then the red glare of torches,
and at last a crew the sight of which made their flesh creep and thei