tomed to command, he trembled at the idea of
disobedience. By degrees, his anger increased more and more. The
prisoner broke the chair, which was too heavy for him to lift, and made
use of it as a battering-ram to strike against the door. He struck so
loudly, and so repeatedly, that the perspiration soon began to pour down
his face. The sound became tremendous and continuous; some stifled,
smothered cries replied in different directions. This sound produced a
strange effect upon the king. He paused to listen to it; it was the
voices of the prisoners, formerly his victims, now his companions. The
voices ascended like vapors through the thick ceilings and the massive
walls, and rose in accusation against the author of this noise, as
doubtless their sighs and tears accused, in whispered tones, the author
of their captivity. After having deprived so many people of their
liberty, the king came among them to rob them of their rest. This idea
almost drove him mad; it redoubled his strength, or rather his will,
bent upon obtaining some information, or a conclusion to the affair.
With a portion of the broken chair he recommenced the noise. At the end
of an hour, Louis heard something in the corridor, behind the door of
his cell, and a violent blow, which was returned upon the door itself,
made him cease his own.

"Are you mad?" said a rude brutal voice. "What is the matter with you
this morning?"

"This morning!" thought the king; but he said aloud, politely,
"Monsieur, are you the governor of the Bastille?"

"My good fellow, your head is out of sorts," replied the voice; "but
that is no reason why you should make such a terrible disturbance. Be
quiet, mordioux!"

"Are you the governor?" the king inquired again.

He heard a door on the corridor close; the jailer had just left, not
even condescending to reply a single word. When the king had assured
himself of his departure, his fury knew no longer any bounds. As agile
as a tiger, he leaped from the table to the window, and struck the iron
bars with all his might. He broke a pane of glass, the pieces of which
fell clanking into the courtyard below. He shouted with increasing
hoarseness, "The governor, the governor!" This access lasted fully an
hour, during which time he was in a burning fever. With his hair in
disorder and matted on his forehead, his dress torn and whitened, his
linen in shreds, the king never rested until his strength was utterly
exhausted, and it was not