THE BLACK HOLE
I lived in darkness for two weeks. Then the inflammation began to subside and a ray of light penetrated my eyes and heart and I wept in gratitude for the joy of looking upon the filthy walls of my dungeon. I started in horror upon beholding in one of the window panes the image of my distorted and swollen face. I realized that an attempt had been made to efface all vestige of lineage from my countenance. But with the passing of time much of the disfigurement disappeared.
One morning soldiers entered my cell and carried me into a close carriage, which, after several hours of travel, stopped before that grim fortress whose very name freezes the blood,—Vincennes.
It had been decreed by my captors that I should here end my days. But what of the creole, my protectress? She was living her days of brilliancy. The Empire—such an Empire!—was being hatched amid the folds of the Consulate. The creole was absorbed by one great fear,—the fear of failing to furnish an heir to that adumbrating Empire. Thérèse, let us smile together at the endurance of thrones. Why, a crown scarcely seems worth the commission of a crime. It cannot even bring sleep to eyes that stare widely during whole nights.
Europe resounded with the blare of trumpets and clarions, the reverberations of cannon and the clashing of swords, while skilful needle-women embroidered a purple mantle for the creole's graceful shoulders.
On descending the carriage opposite the embattled tower, I was conducted beneath an armored postern, through three gates, along a circuitous route which lay between damp gray walls, down two stairways, reaching at length an iron door through which I was pushed into a windowless dungeon, known as The Black Hole and destined as a vestibule to my grave.
I dared not move, fearing to fall into a pit. The only sound I heard was the loud beating of my heart. At last my jailer,—a man having but one eye,—entered the cell. A lantern hung about his neck beneath a sullen countenance. With his rough hand he thrust at me a plate of repulsive food. The light of his lantern illumined the floor. Speedily glancing around, I ascertained that it was free of pitfalls. My enclosure was a damp, moldy, black tomb. In one corner was some straw and a tattered blanket; in another a bench and jug.
The next day my keeper brought me a loaf of hard bread and a jug of water. I ate part of the bread and went to sleep. On awaking, I failed to find the remainder. I shuddered. Who was with me? Who had stolen my bread? I was wrought up to a state of frenzy which the entrance of my jailer subdued. I asked him who had taken my bread. He did not answer. Leaving more bread and water, he departed. I ate half my bread and went to sleep. I awoke hungry and sought the remainder. It was gone. The next day I put some bread underneath the straw and lay upon it pretending sleep. A light pattering of feet and shrill attenuated noises seemed to indicate a troop of tiny creatures in the darkness. A hairy coat swept my cheek and O the sickening horror of it!—the sharp teeth of a rat pierced my fingers. With staring sightless eyes, I understood. Rats raced over my body pushed beneath me in search for food, swept their cold tails over my sore face and grunted contentedly while eating the crumbs. I was often roused from the sleep of exhaustion by their shrill disputes or their nibbling my ears and fingers.