My companions cleaned the cell, and I helped them. We lit the fire, arranged our beds, and breakfasted. Then they began to chat, and I heard who they were.
One was Alba Ghirelli, a dark woman of about forty, stout, with bulging eyes and thick lips, who had been recently sentenced at Versailles to six months' imprisonment, but had appealed, and had been brought to Paris pending a new trial.
The name of the other was Rosselli. She was much younger and kinder-looking, and had blue eyes and light brown hair. She had been accused of fraud, and was awaiting her trial. (I may add that three weeks afterwards she was sentenced to one year's imprisonment, but was almost immediately released.) At the end of December the appeal of Alba Ghirelli was heard, and she, too, was released.—I mention these facts because, as the reader will realise a little later, they have an important and pitiful connection with my own case.
A gong rang three times. Ghirelli and Rosselli exclaimed: "That's Sister Léonide.... She is in charge of the 'reserved' cells" (pistoles).
"What are they?" I asked.
They laughed again. "Why, this is a reserved cell. You have to pay 7 francs 50 (six shillings) a month to be in a cell like this. They are the best to be had. In each of the others there are twelve prisoners. In these there are only five beds."
Sister Léonide came in.
"Your counsel is downstairs," she announced. "Come, please." On the way she said: "In future, you will be known as 'Number 16170,' but as it is difficult to remember, we will call you '61.' When you hear the gong strike once and you hear some one shout '61,' that will mean that you are wanted; then I, or another sister, will open the door of your cell and take you to your counsel, or to the Director...."
She spoke very firmly, but there was a glow of warmth and kindness in her eyes.
"Ma Sœur," I said, "must I remain with those women? It is dreadful for me. Can't I be alone in a cell?"