"As we agreed, I have had some conversation with Father Richard about the situation. I complained of swimming in the head, dimness of eyesight,—in short, of general ill-health."
"What then?"
"Father Richard called his wife, and she rubbed my temples with vinegar, and that revived me. Then, as we had arranged between us, I said that want of fresh air produced this swimming in the head, that I was of too full a habit, and that the duty at the Conciergerie, which contains at the present moment four hundred prisoners, was killing me."
"What did they say to that?"
"Richard's wife pitied me, but he showed me to the door."
"It was not enough to show you to the door."
"But wait! Then his wife, who is a good soul, reproached him with having no heart, seeing that I was the father of a family."
"What did he say to that?"
"He said that she was right; but that the very first condition annexed to the situation of turnkey was to remain within the prison to which he was attached; that the Republic did not jest, but would without ceremony cut the throats of those who grew dizzy in the exercise of their duty."
"The devil!" exclaimed the patriot.