By his escape from Vincennes, Danry had doubled the gravity of his offence. The regulations demanded that he should be sent down into the cells reserved for insubordinate prisoners. "M. Berryer came again to lighten my woes; outside the prison he demanded justice and mercy for me, inside he sought to calm my grief, which seemed less poignant when he assured me that he shared it." The lieutenant of police ordered the prisoner to be fed as well as formerly, and to be allowed his books, papers, knick-knacks, and the privilege of the two hours' walk he had enjoyed at Vincennes. In return for these kindnesses, the assistant surgeon sent to the magistrate "a remedy for the gout." He asked at the same time to be allowed to breed little birds, whose chirping and lively movements would divert him. The request was granted. But instead of bearing his lot with patience, Danry grew more and more irritable every day. He gave free rein to his violent temper, raised a hubbub, shrieked, tore up and down his room, so that they came perforce to believe that he was going mad. On the books of the Bastille library, which circulated from room to room, he wrote ribald verses against the Marquise de Pompadour. In this way he prolonged his sojourn in the cells. Gradually his letters changed their tone. "It is a little hard to be left for fourteen months in prison, a whole year of the time, ending to-day, in one cell where I still am." Then Berryer put him back into a good room, about the end of the year 1751. At the same time he gave him, at the king's expense, a servant to wait on him. As to Annette Benoist, she had been set at liberty after a fortnight's detention. Danry's servant fell sick; as there was no desire to deprive the prisoner of society, he was given a companion. This was a certain Antoine Allègre, who had been there since May 29, 1750. The circumstances which had led to his imprisonment were almost identical with those to which Danry owed his confinement. Allègre was keeping a school at Marseilles when he learnt that the enemies of the Marquise de Pompadour were seeking to destroy her. He fabricated a story of a conspiracy in which he involved Maurepas, the Archbishop of Albi, and the Bishop of Lodève; he sent a denunciation of this plot to Versailles, and, to give it some semblance of truth, addressed to the favourite's valet a letter in disguised handwriting, beginning with these words: "On the word of a gentleman, there are 100,000 crowns for you if you poison your mistress." He hoped by this means to obtain a good situation, or the success of a business project he had in hand.