iety became
intolerable; and gradually, as they confided their apprehensions to
each other, their grief broke out openly. They thought of Jacques being
innocent, and yet treated like one of the worst criminals, alone in
the depth of his prison, given up to the most horrible inspirations of
despair. What could have been his feelings during the twenty-four
hours which had brought him no news from his friends? Must he not fancy
himself despised and abandoned.

"That is an intolerable thought!" exclaimed Dionysia at lat. "We must
get to him at any price."

"How?" asked the marchioness.

"I do not know; but there must be some way. There are things which I
would not have ventured upon as long as I was alone; but, with you by my
side, I can risk any thing. Let us go to the prison."

The old lady promptly put a shawl around her shoulders, and said,--

"I am ready; let us go."

They had both heard repeatedly that Jacques was kept in close
confinement; but neither of them realized fully what that meant. They
had no idea of this atrocious measure, which is, nevertheless, rendered
necessary by the peculiar forms of French law-proceedings,--a measure
which, so to say, immures a man alive, and leaves him in his cell alone
with the crime with which he is charged, and utterly at the mercy of
another man, whose duty it is to extort the truth from him. The two
ladies only saw the want of liberty, a cell with its dismal outfittings,
the bars at the window, the bolts at the door, the jailer shaking his
bunch of keys at his belt, and the tramp of the solitary sentinel in the
long passages.

"They cannot refuse me permission," said the old lady, "to see my son."

"They cannot," repeated Dionysia. "And, besides, I know the jailer,
Blangin: his wife was formerly in our service."

When the young girl, therefore, raised the heavy knocker at the
prison-door, she was full of cheerful confidence. Blangin himself came
to the door; and, at the sight of the two poor ladies, his broad face
displayed the utmost astonishment.

"We come to see M. de Boiscoran," said Dionysia boldly.

"Have you a permit, ladies?" asked the keeper.

"From whom?"

"From M. Galpin."

"We have no permit."

"Then I am very sorry to have to tell you, ladies, that you cannot
possibly see M. de Boiscoran. He is kept in close confinement, and I
have the strictest orders."

Dionysia looked threatening, and said sharply,--

"Your orders cannot apply to this lad