I had thought on the answer, and told him merely that my name was Williams.
"Eh, bien, Monsieur Veeleeum. Take him to the east side among the political offenders," said the master-jailer to an assistant or turnkey.
"But it's full," responded the turnkey.
"Shove him in some place."
They searched me, and the turnkey lighted another candle. The meagerness of my output was beneath remark. When he had led me up a flight of stone steps he paused and inquired,
"Have you any money?"
"No."
"So much the worse for you."
"What is the name of this prison?" I asked.
"Ste. Pélagie," he answered. "If you have no money, and expect to eat here, you better give me some trinket to sell for you."