“Very well,” he said. “Wait a moment, lieutenant, and I will send you a receipt for the prisoners. Follow me, messieurs,” he added to us, and led the way to one of the buildings against the outer wall, which proved to be his office. A sentry at the door saluted as we passed. A receipt was written and given to him.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Maison-Rouge, as the door closed, “I must be assured that you carry no weapons or means of escape into the Bastille with you. Give me your word of honor to that effect and I will omit the formality of search.”
“That is most courteous, monsieur,” cried Richelieu. “I give you my word of honor gladly.”
“And I also,” I said. “My sword was my only weapon.”
“That is well,” and Maison-Rouge opened the door. “Follow me, then.”
Midway of the court a drawbridge grated down to let us pass and creakingly rose behind us. Turning again to the right, we were conducted along a still narrower court to a second gate, and passing through this, paused before a second drawbridge, which was also lowered to permit our passage. Still another gate was opened and clanged shut after us, and we were in the great interior court. The afternoon sun illumined it as brightly as it was ever illumined, and I perceived two or three melancholy personages walking slowly up and down, each in charge of a sentry, who followed closely with loaded musket and permitted no word to be exchanged. Three lofty towers flanked the court on either side. They were fully a hundred feet in height, as were the walls between them, and the court itself was near a hundred feet long, by perhaps seventy in width. We were led straight on across another drawbridge into a second court, much smaller than the first, and which resembled nothing so much as a gigantic well. As I afterwards found out, it was, indeed, called the well court.
“I trust I may have my old room, monsieur,” observed Richelieu, as we entered this forbidding place, which made my heart sink within me.
“I see nothing against it,” answered Maison-Rouge. “The Tower du Puits is certainly strong enough to hold even the Duc de Richelieu.”
“That has been proved,” laughed the duke, “since it has already held me for more than a year. I had no reason to complain of your hospitality, monsieur.”
The governor smiled grimly, but said nothing. I wondered how my companion could laugh so lightly in this horrible place.