That Bertie's expressions of pity and sympathy with the poor old prisoner eased his grief he could not flatter himself, nothing could bring comfort, he knew, to that broken heart and wasted life. Moreover, he was himself too appalled, too overshadowed, by the dread of what might be his own fate to give much consolation to the other. He was young, almost as young as the marquis had been when he was brought here; he might be here, in this very _calotte_, forty-three years hence. Could there be any horror greater than this to look forward to? Anything more dreadful than such as this, to freeze the very life out of him! Yet, he hoped that it was not possible; he even hoped that to-night, when the judges came, might see his liberty announced. For he knew now that he must be the victim of some awful error; there was no man in France whom he had injured, no man whom he knew who held the rank and power which the King's Lieutenant said his enemy held. How, then, could he have come here except by a mistake? Bluet brought their supper at eight o'clock and announced to them that D'Argenson had arrived with two other examiners, or judges, as they were termed indifferently; that they were supping with De Launey, and that, when this was finished, they would proceed to the great hall, where those who were to be examined would be summoned one by one before them. "And when--when," asked Bertie, "shall I know if--if--I am passed over?" while it seemed to him as he spoke as though his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth so that he was scarcely intelligible. Bluet shrugged his shoulders ere he answered, then he said: "'Tis scarce possible to say. _Mon Dieu!_ in this place day and night scarce know distinction. They may sit till daybreak--I have known them do it when making a great clearance, and we have had to rouse our guests from their beds to go before them. Yet, 'tis not always so; ordinarily, by midnight, the affair is finished." "So that," said Bertie, "I can know nothing for certain until the morrow." Again Bluet shrugged his shoulders, again he answered dubiously that, "_en vêrité_, that might be so;" and then, saying that "Monsieur le Capitaine must hope for the best," he took himself off. So, in this hapless frame of mind, Bertie sat down to pass the first night in his new lodging. That he should sleep was impossible, and therefore bidding the marquis, who had already got into his bed, "Good-night," he dragged a chair in front of the barred fireplace and sat there brooding through the hours. Of Fordingbridge, who was lying outside his bed, neither of the others had taken any heed, and even when he muttered incoherently Bertie regarded him not.