‘I have told you that I am in danger every day. In danger of what? Of being grossly insulted; of being called Madame Plomb; of having my liberty taken from me. I have been locked up in my chamber before now, and the beast threatened me with something of the kind just now, as I passed him in the yard, teasing the dogs. That man is hated by all. The people of Paris hate him; his servants hate him; his dogs hate him; you hate him; and so do I,--I hate him. I am all hate.’ ‘Madame, let me tell you what he said to me.’ ‘I do not care to hear,--I can guess; he spoke of me and called me Madame Plomb,’ she stamped, as she mentioned the name. ‘He made his jokes about me. He always makes his jokes about me to the servants, to his guests, to any one--and, if I am listening and looking on, all the better.’ ‘Dear, dear madame, let me speak.’ ‘You do not know, however, how my father treats me. That is worst of all. But where is Gabriel? Where is the yellow angel? Come, we will make his cradle.’ In a moment she had the threads about her fingers. The girl saw that her only chance of being attended to was to wait her opportunity. ‘This is the cat’s net,’ said Madame Berthier. ‘This is his basket.’ She pursued the changes with her usual interest, till it came to that of her own invention. As Gabrielle put up her fingers for the construction of the castle, she said, nervously: ‘Madame, what do you call this tower or prison?’ ‘I call it the cat’s castle.’ ‘But you have another name for it. You told me about a dreadful prison in Paris----’ ‘Ah! the Bastille.’ ‘Yes, madame. Who are shut up in that place?’ ‘Political offenders, and mad people, and, indeed, all sorts of folk.’ ‘How are they put in there?’ ‘Why, those who have committed political offences----’ ‘No, dearest madame, the others.’ ‘What! the mad people?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Their friends get an order from the king, and then they are incarcerated.’ ‘Are all mad people in Paris put there?’ ‘Oh dear no! they are sent to Bicêtre. But only those of very great families, or those whom it is not wise or prudent for their relatives to have sent to the general asylum, are imprisoned there.’ ‘Madame, have you ever feared?’ ‘Feared what, Gabrielle?’ ‘Feared lest----’ the girl hesitated and shook like an aspen. ‘I have often been much afraid of an accident befalling my darling Gabriel. Oh! child, the anguish and terror of one night when the dear cat was absent. He had not been in all day, and night drew on and no Gabriel came, so I sat up at the window and watched, and I cried ever and anon, but he did not answer.’ ‘Madame,’ interrupted the girl, clasping the poor lady’s hands, and utterly ruining the tower of threads; ‘dear, dear Madame Berthier, have you never feared the Bastille for yourself?’