"The Duke went up the stair, and with difficulty lifted the trapdoor so as to see a little. As no one was in sight, he heaved off the staves my father had cast down, and at last got himself out into the upper cellar. Then he went thence into the plant-house and garden, and at last boldly entered the house, in which was no one, as it had been closed, and, as we learned long after, the seal of the Republic put on the door. In a half hour the Duke returned and took me back into the house, whence we carried a number of things much needed in our cave, such as more candles, and a blanket or two, although this was chiefly for precaution, since the cellar was never cold, nor, as I think of it, damp. We hurried back, and as we did so I asked the Duke about my father. But neither he nor my mother could tell why he had been arrested, as he had managed to keep in good relations with some of the Jacobins. It was quite common to hear of the head of a house being arrested, and then, within a day or two, of the women being likewise hurried to the common fate which awaited all suspects. The Duke seemed to think my father might have had some such fear for us, and desired to put us all in safety, although how in the end this could be of use did not seem very clear. "When we all got back to the cave and had shut the trap, I sat a long while much oppressed in my small mind; but so, too, were our elders, I fear. As to this my Duke here, he cried a little, but not so that any one knew but myself. "In this way four miserable days and nights went by, and, thus imprisoned, we knew not what to do. We had waited long, hopeful of my father’s return, and, _mon Dieu!_ he came not at all. The Duke was for going forth again at night and some way escaping alone, fearing that to be caught in our company might more surely bring us into trouble when at last we should be forced, soon or late, to come out to the light. Meanwhile, this blackness, for it was not mere darkness, became more terrible than I can make any one comprehend. As I remember, there were long talks of what to do, with vain endings, and, in between, great, awful silences." "I used to get frightened then," said the Duke, looking up from the fire. "One seemed so absolutely alone. I used to resist for a time, and at last put out a hand to take hold of your mother’s skirt for company. Once or twice the poor baby screamed so loud that he had to be kept quiet by a little _eau de vie_, lest some one coming overhead should hear; for, indeed, in this vault his cries seemed like shouts, and one heard better because one could not see. Do you remember that, Des Illes? But I used to wish that baby would cry all day."