"There is no fear?" said George.
"Not in the least. Our punishment is so formidable, that few will incur it by being refractory."
"What! then you are obliged to punish them?" said Acmé, with a shudder.
"Sometimes, but not often. I will show you what our punishment consists in. You see this room without furniture! Observe the walls and floor; and even the door as it closes. All these are carefully stuffed; and if you walk across the room, there is no sound.
"We cautiously search violent lunatics; who are then dressed in a plain flannel suit, and left alone. It is seldom we have occasion to retain them longer than twenty-four hours. They soon find they cannot injure themselves; their most violent efforts cannot elicit a sound. Their minds become calmed; and when released, they are perfectly quiet, and generally inclined to melancholy."
They descended to the court yard, set apart for the men. Its inmates were pacing it hurriedly; some jabbering to themselves; others with groups round them, to whom they addressed some quickly delivered jargon. With one or two exceptions, all noticed the entrance of the strangers; and some of them bowed to them, with mock gravity. One man, who wore an old cocked hat with a shabby feather, tapped Sir Henry on the shoulder.
"Vous me reconnaissez--Napoleon! votre Empereur!"
He wheeled round, and called for his Mamelukes.
The next moment, a young and interesting looking person came forward, the tears standing in his, eyes, and extended his hand to Acmé.
"Give me yours," said he, "as a great favour. I was a painter once in Naples--and I went to Rome--and I loved Gianetta Cantieri!"