m M. Emile Leroux was, not
crucified, but locked up.

The Mazas prison is so ingeniously built that the least word can be
heard from one cell to another. Consequently there is no isolation,
notwithstanding the cellular system. Thence this rigorous silence imposed
by the perfect and cruel logic of the rules. What do the thieves do? They
have invented a telegraphic system of raps, and the rules gain nothing by
their stringency. M. Emile Leroux had simply interrupted a conversation
which had been begun.

"Don't interfere with our friendly patter," cried out his thief neighbor,
who for this exclamation was thrown into the dungeon.

Such was the life of the Representatives at Mazas. Moreover, as they were
in secret confinement, not a book, not a sheet of paper, not a pen, not
even an hour's exercise in the courtyard was allowed to them.

The thieves also go to Mazas, as we have seen.

But those who know a trade are permitted to work; those who know how to
read are supplied with books; those who know how to write are granted a
desk and paper; all are permitted the hour's exercise required by the
laws of health and authorized by the rules.

The Representatives were allowed nothing whatever. Isolation, close
confinement, silence, darkness, cold, "the amount of _ennui_ which
engenders madness," as Linguet has said when speaking of the Bastille.

To remain seated on a chair all day long, with arms and legs crossed:
such was the situation. But the bed! Could they lie down?

No.

There was no bed.

At eight o'clock in the evening the jailer came into the cell, and
reached down, and removed something which was rolled up on a plank near
the ceiling. This "something" was a hammock.

The hammock having been fixed, hooked up, and spread out, the jailer
wished his prisoner "Good-night."

There was a blanket on the hammock, sometimes a mattress some two inches
thick. The prisoner, wrapt in this covering, tried to sleep, and only
succeeded in shivering.

But on the morrow he could at least remain lying down all day in his
hammock?

Not at all.

At seven o'clock in the morning the jailer came in, wished the
Representative "Good-morning," made him get up, and rolled up the hammock
on its shelf near the ceiling.

But in this case could not the prisoner take down the authorized hammock,
unroll it, hook it up, and lie down again?

Yes, he could. But then there was the dungeon.

This was the routine. The hammock for the n