It is said that one of the towers descends as deep into the earth as it rises above it, and terrible are the approaches to these frightful spots. A tradition exists that one of the later governors of the castle, being curious to know the extent of these gloomy places, set forth one day on an exploring expedition, and found several passages closed by iron doors: these he had forced open, and found himself in new passages, cut in the depth of the rock on which the castle is built. Another door arrested his progress, which was also broken open, and he entered a long alley, still in the rock, which he followed for a considerable time, till at length it led him to a subterraneous chamber, where, seated on a huge block of stone, with his head leaning on his two hands, sat a very tall man. Monsieur de Pontbrillant, the enterprising governor, was amazed at this vision; but, scarcely had he looked upon it, when the current of air striking the figure, it fell away into dust at his feet. Beside the unfortunate prisoner stood a small wooden coffer, in which still remained several articles of linen, very fine, and carefully folded. The skull and bones of this corpse were long shown at the castle, and were looked upon with awe by those to whom this story was related: but who the prisoner was was never known. In more than one of the old castles of France are still to be traced these horrid dungeons, where captives of all ranks were confined immediately beneath the pleasure chambers of the lords and ladies. The governor of Loches was always a very great man, which, perhaps, accounted for the fact of our having to wait a long time for the keys of the great tower, which a messenger had gone in search of at the present governor’s lodgings. While we waited in an outer court, we were civilly invited by the portress to walk into her parlor, and there we sat some time talking to her, and hearing the gossip of the place. Beside the large fire-place, guarded from the draught of the open door by a huge wooden screen, sat the grandmother of the establishment--generally a cherished member of the humblest family circle in France--who, old as she seemed, got up and made us a reverence, resuming her cosy seat by the fire, which was directly piled with enormous pine cones and sent up a resinous flame, the perfume of which spread through the room. Monsieur Faye was placed near her, and as she went on with her ceaseless knitting, she was soon busy in cheerful converse with her new acquaintance, while I was listening to a history of a lately escaped convict from this apparently secure retreat: the castle being the country prison. “You see,” said the portress, “you would not have been obliged to wait so long for the keys but for this: we used, till three days ago, to keep them here, but since that event they are sent up to the governor’s house, and my husband, the guide, who shows you over the dungeons, is obliged to go and get them--but he will soon be back.”