'When shall we start?'
'Oh, madame! you are not out of this hateful place yet.'
'No,' said the poor prisoner, her face returning to its ashen greyness, which, in the Bastille, shut out from the sun, had become more livid; 'no, and I have not said good-bye to the Beast yet.'
'Madame!'
'Ay. To the Beast! Oh for that good-bye!'
She threw up her hand, clenched her fist, and gnashed her teeth. At the same moment voices were heard in the corridor, and the key was turned in the lock.
Gabrielle rose to her feet, madame caught up the cat, fearing lest the returning jailer should refuse to leave it with her, when the door opening revealed the governor and M. Berthier.