“Of course he has received it.”
“And the result—the result!” cried the Count, trembling with anxiety; “what has been decreed?”
“That, as a punishment for your breach of discipline, you are to be confined a month in the dungeon of the northern bastion of the fortress of Fenestrella.”
“But what said the Emperor to my application?” cried the Count, unable to resign at once all his cherished hopes of redress.
“Do you suppose, sir, that the Emperor has leisure for the consideration of any such contemptible absurdities?” was the disdainful reply of the commandant; on which Charney, throwing himself in complete abstraction into the only chair the chamber happened to contain, became evidently unconscious of all that was passing around him.
“This is not all!” resumed the commandant; “your communications with the exterior of the fortress, being thus ascertained, it is natural to suppose that your correspondence may have been more extensive than we know of, and I beg to inquire whether you have addressed letters to any person besides his majesty the Emperor?”
To this address Charney vouchsafed no reply.
“An official examination of your chamber and effects is about to take place,” added the man in authority. “These gentlemen are appointed by the governor of Turin for the inquisitorial duty, which they will discharge punctually, according to legal form, in your presence. But previous to the execution of the warrant, I request to know whether you have any personal revelations to make? Voluntary disclosures, sir, might operate favourably in your behalf.”
Still, however, the prisoner remained obstinately silent; and the commandant, knitting his brows and contracting his high forehead into a hundred solemn wrinkles, assumed an air of severity, and motioned to the delegates of General Menon to proceed with their duty. They immediately began to ransack the chamber, from the chimney and palliasse of the bed, to the linings of the coats of the prisoner; while Morand paced up and down the narrow chamber, tapping with his cane every square of the flooring, to ascertain whether excavations existed for the concealment of papers or preparations for flight. He called to mind the escape of Latude and other prisoners from the Bastille; where moats, both deep and wide, walls ten feet thick—gratings, counterscarps, drawbridges, ramparts bristled with cannon and palisades, sentinels at every postern, on every parapet—had proved insufficient to baffle the perseverance of a man armed with a cord and a nail! The Bastille of Fenestrella was far from possessing the same iron girdle of strength and security. Since the year 1796, the fortifications had been in part demolished, and the citadel was now defended only by a few sentries, planted on the external bastion.
After a search prolonged as far as the limited space would allow, nothing of a suspicious nature was brought to light, with the exception of a small vial, containing a blackish liquid, which had probably served the prisoner for ink. Interrogated as to the means by which it came into his possession, Charney turned towards the window, and began tapping with his fingers on the glass, without condescending to reply to the importunate querists.