arked a barred window through which there passed a
stream of light, lozenge-shaped, which must be, he knew, the bright orb
of approaching day, Louis began to call out, at first gently enough,
then louder and louder still; but no one replied. Twenty other attempts
which he made, one after another, obtained no other or better success.
His blood began to boil within him, and mount to his head. His nature
was such, that, accustomed to command, he trembled at the idea of
disobedience. The prisoner broke the chair, which was too heavy for him
to lift, and made use of it as a battering ram to strike against the
door. He struck so loudly, and so repeatedly, that the perspiration soon
began to pour down his face. The sound became tremendous and continuous;
certain stifled, smothered cries replied in different directions. This
sound produced a strange effect upon the king. He paused to listen;
it was the voice of the prisoners, formerly his victims, now his
companions. The voices ascended like vapors through the thick ceilings
and the massive walls, and rose in accusations against the author of
this noise, as doubtless their sighs and tears accused, in whispered
tones, the author of their captivity. After having deprived so many
people of their liberty, the king came among them to rob them of their
rest. This idea almost drove him mad; it redoubled his strength, or
rather his well, bent upon obtaining some information, or a conclusion
to the affair. With a portion of the broken chair he recommenced the
noise. At the end of an hour, Louis heard something in the corridor,
behind the door of his cell, and a violent blow, which was returned upon
the door itself, made him cease his own.

"Are you mad?" said a rude, brutal voice. "What is the matter with you
this morning?"

"This morning!" thought the king; but he said aloud, politely,
"Monsieur, are you the governor of the Bastile?"

"My good fellow, your head is out of sorts," replied the voice; "but
that is no reason why you should make such a terrible disturbance. Be
quiet; _mordioux!_"

"Are you the governor?" the king inquired again.

He heard a door on the corridor close; the jailer had just left, not
condescending to reply a single word. When the king had assured himself
of his departure, his fury knew no longer any bounds. As agile as a
tiger, he leaped from the table to the window, and struck the iron bars
with all his might. He broke a pane of glass, the pieces of which