and what easier, if needed, than to
dispose of one like himself, without family or friends?

Though nominally committed to St. Pelagie, such was the crowded
condition of that prison that Gerald was conducted to the 'Depot de
la Prefecture,' a horrible den, into which murderers, malefactors,
political offenders, and thieves were indiscriminately huddled, until
time offered the opportunity to sift and divide them. It was a long
hall, supported on two ranges of stone pillars, with wooden guard-beds
on each side, and between them a space technically called 'the street.'
Four narrow windows, close to the roof, admitted a scanty light into
this dreary abyss, where upward of eighty prisoners were already
confined. By a sort of understanding among themselves, for no other
direction existed, the prisoners had divided themselves into three
distinct classes, each of which maintained itself apart from the others.
Such as had committed capital offences or were accused of them, held the
first rank, and exercised a species of general sway over all. The place
occupied by them was called 'Le Nid'; they themselves were styled the
'Birds of Passage.' The political criminals gathered in a corner named
'L'Opinion '; the rest, a large majority, were known as 'Les Ames de
boue.'

Gerald had but crossed the threshold of this darksome dungeon when the
door closed behind him, leaving him almost in total obscurity. The heavy
breathing of a number of people asleep, and the low mutterings of others
suddenly awakened, showed him that the place was crowded, although as
yet he could distinguish nothing. Not venturing to stir from the spot
he occupied, he waited patiently till by the cold grey light of breaking
day he could look at the scene before him. He was not suffered to
indulge this contemplation long, for as the sleepers awoke and beheld
him, a general cry was raised to pass him on to the Prevot to be
classed. Gerald obeyed the order, moving slowly up the narrow 'street'
to the end of the hall, where sat or rather lay an old man, whose
imprisonment dated upward of forty years back. He was perfectly blind,
and so crippled by age and rheumatism as to be utterly helpless; but
notwithstanding his infirmities his voice was loud and commanding, and
its tones resounded throughout the length and breadth of the prison.
After a brief routine address, informing the new arrival that for
the due administration of that discipline which all societies of men