Claude Count de Blenau, to hold and keep in strict imprisonment, until such time as his Majesty’s will be known in his regard, or till he be acquitted of the crimes with which he is charged, by a competent tribunal; and I now require you to do the same.”

This being gone through, De Thiery descended from the carriage, followed by the Count de Blenau, whom the Governor instantly addressed with a profound bow and servile smile.

“Monsieur de Blenau,” said he, “you are welcome to the Bastille; and any thing I can do for your accommodation, consistent with my duty, you shall command.”

“I hope you will let it be so, Sir Governor,” said old De Thiery; “for Monsieur de Blenau is my particular friend, and without doubt he will be liberated in a few days. Now, Monsieur de Blenau,” continued he, “I must leave you for the present, but hope soon to see you in another place. You will, no doubt, find several of your friends here; for we all take it in turn: and indeed, now-a-days, it would be almost accounted a piece of ignorance not to have been in the Bastille once in one’s life. So, farewell!” And he embraced him warmly, whispering as he did so, “Make a friend of the Governor—gold will do it!”

De Blenau looked after the good old soldier with feelings of regret, as he got into his belle voiture and drove through the archway. Immediately after, the drawbridge rose, and the gates closed with a clang, sounding on De Blenau’s ears as if they shut out from him all that was friendly in the world; and overpowered by a feeling of melancholy desolation, he remained with his eyes fixed in the direction De Thiery had taken, till he was roused by the Governor laying his hand upon his arm. “Monsieur de Blenau,” said he, “will you do me the favour of following me, and I will have the honour of showing you your apartment.”

De Blenau obeyed in silence, and the Governor led the way into the inner court, and thence up the chief staircase to the second story, where he stopped at a heavy door plated with iron, and sunk deep in the stone wall, from the appearance of which De Blenau did not argue very favourably of the chambers within. His anticipations, however, were agreeably disappointed, when one of the attendants, who lighted them, pulled aside the bolts, and throwing open the door, exposed to his view a large neat room, fitted up with every attention to comfort, and even some attempt at elegance. This, the Governor informed him, was destined for his use while he did the Bastille the honour of making it his abode; and he then went on in the same polite strain to apologize for the furniture being in some disorder, as the servants had been very busy an the chateau, and had not had time to arrange it since its last occupant had left them, which was only the morning before. So far De Blenau might have imagined himself in the house of a polite friend, had not the bolts and bars obtruded themselves on his view wherever he turned, speaking strongly of a prison.

The end of the Governor’s speech also was more in accordance with his office: “My orders, Monsieur de Blenau,” said he in continuation, “are, to pay every attention to your comfort and convenience, but at the same time to have the strictest guard over you. I am therefore obliged to deny you the liberty of the court, which some of the prisoners enjoy, and I must also place a sentinel at your door. I will now go and give orders for the packages which were in the carriage to be brought up here, and will then return immediately to advise with you on what can be done to make your time pass more pleasantly.”

Thus saying, he quitted the apartment, and De Blenau heard the heavy bolts of the door grate into their sockets with a strange feeling of reluctance; for though he felt too surely that liberty was gone, yet he would fain have shrunk from those outward marks of captivity which continually forced the recollection of it upon his mind. The polite attentions of the Governor, however, had not escaped his notice, and his thoughts soon returned to that officer’s conduct.

“Can this man,” thought he, “continually accustomed to scenes of blood and horror, be really gentle in his nature, as he seems to show himself? or can it be that he has especial orders to treat me with kindness? Yet here I am a prisoner,—and for what purpose, unless they intend to employ the most fearful means to draw from me those secrets which they have failed in obtaining otherwise?”

Such was the nature of his first thoughts for a moment or two after the Governor had left him; but rousing himself, after a little, from reveries which threw no light upon his situation, he began to examine more closely the apartment which bade fair to be his dwelling for some time to come.

It was evidently one of the best in the prison, consisting of two spacious chambers, which occupied the whole breadth of the square tower in the centre of the Bastille. The first, which opened from the staircase and communicated with the second by means of a small door, was conveniently furnished in its way, containing, besides a very fair complement of chairs and tables of the most solid manufacture, that happy invention of our ancestors, a corner cupboard, garnished with various articles of plate and porcelain, and a shelf of books, which last De Blenau had no small pleasure in perceiving.

On one of the tables were various implements for writing, and on another the attendant who had lighted them thither had placed two silver lamps, which, though of an antique fashion, served very well to light the whole extent of the room. Raising one of these, De Blenau proceeded to the inner chamber, which was fitted up as a bed-room, and contained various articles of furniture in a more modern taste than that which decorated the other. But the attention of the prisoner was particularly attracted by a heavy iron door near the head of the bed, which, however, as he gladly perceived, possessed bolts on the inside, so as to prevent the approach of any one from without during the night.

So much of our happiness is dependent on the trifles of personal comfort, that De Blenau, though little caring in general for very delicate entertainment, nevertheless felt himself more at ease when, on looking round his apartment, he found that at all events it was no dungeon to which he had been consigned: and from this he drew a favourable augury, flattering himself that no very severe measures would ultimately be pursued towards him, when such care was taken of his temporary accommodation.

De Blenau had just time to complete the perambulation of his new abode, when the Governor returned, followed by two of the subordinate ministers of the prison, carrying the various articles with which Henry de La Mothe had loaded the belle voiture of Monsieur de Thiery: and as the faithful Page had taken care to provide fully for his master’s comfort, the number of packages was not small.

As soon as these were properly disposed about the apartment, the Governor commanded his satellites to withdraw, and remained alone with his prisoner, who, remembering the last words of the old Count de Thiery, resolved, as far as possible, to gain the good will of one who had it in his power not only to soften or to aggravate the pains of his captivity, but even perhaps to serve him more essentially. De Thiery had recommended gold, all-powerful gold, as the means to be employed; but at first De Blenau felt some hesitation as to the propriety of offering sordid coin to a man holding so responsible a situation, and no small embarrassment as to the manner. These feelings kept him silent for a moment, during which time the Governor remained silent also, regarding his prisoner with a polite and affable smile, as if he expected him to begin the conversation.

“I will try the experiment at all events,” thought De Blenau. “I could