Luis d’Almeida had already spent some time in prison, each successive day expecting to be informed of the cause of his detention, and to be brought to trial; but nothing of the sort occurred. He received, it is true, several visits from the polite and complaisant Governor, who appeared to take great pleasure in his conversation, and who was most liberal in his promises of a more airy and commodious lodging, and of every luxury which he had the power to bestow; but his memory appeared to be very bad, for the prisoner found no improvement in any way in his treatment. It is true that, on the night of his incarceration, he had been supplied with bedding, which the Governor, on his first visit, assured him was procured with considerable difficulty and expense, hinting that his most advisable plan would be to pay for it at once, lest it might be required for some other person, who might possess sufficient means to purchase it. Luis at once paid the exorbitant demand, requesting, at the same time, to be furnished with writing materials, which, though they were at once promised him, never made their appearance. He begged also to be allowed to send to his lodgings for a change of linen and clothes; but this was at once refused, he being informed that his friends must not learn even the place of his imprisonment.
On the first night after his incarceration, when the outer world was hushed in silence, as he lay awake on his wretched pallet, he fancied that he heard suppressed groans, as if proceeding from the ground beneath his cell. He listened attentively, and became certain that his senses had not deceived him. “Alas!” he thought, “can a human being be confined in a yet more wretched abode than I inhabit?” The groans were continued at intervals, and proceeded, apparently, from some unfortunate prisoner suffering from pain and sickness. Day after day they continued, but Luis was left in vain conjecture as to their origin.
One day, at about the usual hour, the Governor, with a complaisant smile on his countenance, made his appearance, and bowing politely to his prisoner, he seated himself on the bed, begging him to occupy the chair near the table.
“You must excuse ceremony, Senhor Conde,” he began; “but though, to say the truth, I am rather hurried, I wished to enjoy the pleasure of a little conversation with you. I fear you must find it very solitary here, and must be getting heartily tired of your present life.”
“Indeed I am, senhor,” answered Luis; “and I shall much rejoice to find myself at liberty.”
“Very naturally. Most prisoners think the same; but do not despair; you will, in the course of time, get perfectly accustomed to it. I have heard of people living twenty years in prison very happily, so that, at last, when they were allowed to quit it, they preferred remaining where they were.”
“I trust that will not be my case,” observed Luis.
“That depends on circumstances,” said the Governor. “I might, indeed, point out a way by which you might instantly gain your freedom.”
“Pray then inform me what it is, for I would do much to be set at liberty,” said the prisoner.
“I am glad, at length, to hear you talk so reasonably,” said the Governor. “I need not tell you an execrable conspiracy has been discovered against the life of his Majesty, in which several known friends of yours are implicated; now, if you will give information on the subject to the Minister, he will not only overlook any share you have taken in it, but will reward you in any way you may wish.”