mal sepulchre than that dark vault, through the
crevice in whose wall the blue-bloused marketers cast curious glances.
Yet within these grim coffins lie two bodies with their severed heads,
all that remains mortal of the haughty Marie Antoinette and other humble
spouse.

[Illustration: Illumination]

CHAPTER IX

THE PRISONERS RELEASED

The first dread days, when the Boy, heavy with fever, seemed scarcely to
realise our presence, were swiftly followed by placid hours when he lay
and smiled in blissful content, craving nothing, now that we were all
together again. But this state of beatitude was quickly ousted by a
period of discontent, when the hunger fiend reigned supreme in the
little room.

"_Manger, manger, manger, tout le temps!"_ Thus the nurse epitomised the
converse of her charges. And indeed she was right, for, from morning
till night, the prisoners' solitary topic of conversation was food.
During the first ten days their diet consisted solely of boiled milk,
and as that time wore to a close the number of quarts consumed increased
daily, until Paul, the chief porter, seemed ever ascending the little
outside stair carrying full bottles of milk, or descending laden with
empty ones.

"Milk doesn't count. When shall we be allowed food, _real_ food?" was
the constant cry, and their relief was abounding when, on Christmas Day,
the doctor withdrew his prohibition, and permitted an approach to the
desired solids. But even then the prisoners, to their loudly voiced
disappointment, discovered that their only choice lay between vermicelli
and tapioca, nursery dishes which at home they would have despised.

"_Tapioca!_ Imagine tapioca for a Christmas dinner!" the invalids
exclaimed with disgust. But that scorn did not prevent them devouring
the mess and eagerly demanding more. And thereafter the saucepan
simmering over the gas-jet in the outer room seemed ever full of savoury
spoon-meat.

I doubt if any zealous mother-bird ever had a busier time feeding her
fledglings than had the good Sister in satisfying the appetites of these
callow cormorants. To witness the French nun seeking to allay the hunger
of these voracious schoolboy aliens was to picture a wren trying to fill
the ever-gaping beaks of two young cuckoos whom an adverse fate had
dropped into her nest.

As the days wore by, the embargo placed upon our desire to cater for the
invalids was gradually lifted, and little things such as sponge biscuit