"If, monsieur," Bertie exclaimed, however, at this, "I draw them, I know not how they are ever to be refunded. I was an officer in the French King's army when I was brought here. I can scarcely suppose I am one now. When I quit this prison I am as like as not to be a beggar in the streets. This incarceration has stolen my life from me for two years; now I am free, its effect will be to deprive me of the means whereby to live in the future." "_Monsieur le Capitaine_, I think not. I am authorized to tell you that a commission in his Majesty's service will still be provided for you, in consequence of your residence here being due to a slight mistake." "So be it," said Bertie; "I rejoice to hear that so much justice will be done to me." Yet, as he spoke, he took a vow that never more would he serve the French King, never more draw sword for a country in which such errors could happen as that which had imprisoned him for those two years. "Now," said the commissary, "you must please to sign these papers, and to swear upon your honours that you will neither reveal, when outside this fortress, any of the situations of the various chambers, apartments, towers, halls, or courts of which you have obtained any knowledge, nor the names of any other persons here with which you have become acquainted in any way. Also you must, upon your honours, state that you carry no messages from anyone within this fortress to anyone whatsoever outside of it, either written or verbal. And when you do go forth at the time it shall please you, you will also sign another paper stating that you have been deprived of nothing, neither money, clothes, jewellery, nor trinkets of which you were in possession when you arrived." De Chevagny shrugged his shoulders as he answered: "I may sign with safety. I have no recollection of anything I had about me when I came here in the year 1704. I know not what I had. And what matters it? What matters it?" "As for me," said Elphinston, "I had but a few gold pieces in my purse when I came here, and they have been exhausted long ago in payment for my bed. There can be nothing left; and if there is, I want it not." That night, however, both he and De Chevagny decided to draw each upon De Launey for ten _Louis d'ors_, with which to reward the faithful Bluet, and also--for such was the custom even in this hateful place-to give a treat to the turnkeys. So, ere they slept for the last time in their miserable chamber, these men were called in, and, bringing with them various sorts of wine, chocolate, pasties, and ratafias, were rewarded also with pieces of money, while they drank to the health of those whom they termed the "parting guests."