the preceding scene, he felt his usual boldness forsake him, while fear
and trembling came upon him. A cold sweat bedewed his brow, his
tottering knees refused to support him, and he fell motionless beside
the open grave.

CHAPTER V.

LA FORCE.

We may, perhaps, be accused, from the space accorded to the following
scenes, of injuring the unity of our story by some episodical pictures;
but it seems to us that, at this moment particularly, when important
questions of punishment are engaging the attention of the legislature,
that the interior of a prison--that frightful pandemonium, that gloomy
thermometer of civilisation--will be an opportune study. In a word, the
various physiognomies of prisoners of all classes, the relations of kin
or affection, which still bind them to the world from which their gaol
walls separate them, appear to us worthy of interest and attention. We
hope, therefore, to be excused for having grouped about many prisoners
known to the readers of this history other secondary characters,
intended to put in relief certain ideas of criticism, and to complete
the initiation of a prison life.

* * * * *

Let us enter La Force. There is nothing sombre or repulsive in the
aspect of this house of incarceration in the Rue du Roi de Sicile, in
the Marais. In the centre of one of the first courts there are some
clumps of trees, thickened with shrubs, at the roots of which there are
already, here and there, the green, precocious shoots of primroses and
snowdrops. A raised ascent, surmounted by a porch covered with
trellis-work, in which knotty stalks of the vine entwine, leads to one
of the seven or eight walks assigned to the prisoners. The vast
buildings which surround these courts very much resemble those of
barrack or manufactory kept with exceeding care. There are lofty facades
of white stone, pierced with high and large windows, which admit of the
free circulation of pure air.

The stones and pavement of the enclosures are kept excessively clean. On
the ground floor, the large apartments, warmed during the winter, are
kept well ventilated during the summer, and are used during the day as
places of conversation, work, or for the meals of the prisoners. The
upper stories are used as immense dormitories, ten or twelve feet high,
with dry and shining floors; two rows of iron beds are there arranged,
and excellent bedding it is, consisting of a palliasse, a soft an