een
furnished him, probably, that they might figure in the report as evidences
of indulgence. He did not look up from the table as the commissioners
entered. He was in a slate-coloured dress, bareheaded; the room was
reported as clean, the bed in good condition, the linen fresh; his clothes
were also reported as new; but, in spite of all these assertions, it is
well known that his bed had not been made for months, that he had not left
his room, nor was permitted to leave it, for any purpose whatever, that it
was consequently uninhabitable, and that he was covered with vermin and
with sores. The swellings at his knees alone were sufficient to disable
him from walking. One of the commissioners approached the young Prince
respectfully. The latter did not raise his head. Harmond in a kind voice
begged him to speak to them. The eyes of the boy remained fixed on the
table before him. They told him of the kindly intentions of the
Government, of their hopes that he would yet be happy, and their desire
that he would speak unreservedly to the medical man that was to visit him.
He seemed to listen with profound attention, but not a single word passed
his lips. It was an heroic principle that impelled that poor young heart
to maintain the silence of a mute in presence of these men. He remembered
too well the days when three other commissaries waited on him, regaled him
with pastry and wine, and obtained from him that hellish accusation
against the mother that he loved. He had learnt by some means the import
of the act, so far as it was an injury to his mother. He now dreaded
seeing again three commissaries, hearing again kind words, and being
treated again with fine promises. Dumb as death itself he sat before
them, and remained motionless as stone, and as mute." [THIERS]

His disease now made rapid progress, and Gomin and Lasne, superintendents
of the Temple, thinking it necessary to inform the Government of the
melancholy condition of their prisoner, wrote on the register: "Little
Capet is unwell." No notice was taken of this account, which was renewed
next day in more urgent terms: "Little Capet is dangerously ill." Still
there was no word from beyond the walls. "We must knock harder," said the
keepers to each other, and they added, "It is feared he will not live," to
the words "dangerously ill." At length, on Wednesday, 6th May, 1795,
three days after the first report, the authorities appointed M. Desault to
giv