Modern French Prisons: Bicêtre; St. Pélagie; St. Lazare; La Force; The Conciergerie; La Grande and La Petite Roquettes; Mazas; La Santé — John Shaqi
Modern French Prisons: Bicêtre; St. Pélagie; St. Lazare; La Force; The Conciergerie; La Grande and La Petite Roquettes; Mazas; La SantéGriffiths, Arthur
History
Modern French Prisons: Bicêtre; St. Pélagie; St. Lazare; La Force; The Conciergerie; La Grande and La Petite Roquettes; Mazas; La Santé
Griffiths, Arthur
Crime -- France -- History; Criminals -- France -- History; Prisons -- France -- History
always comes in as soon as I ring a bell, giving him notice that I am
alone,” writes La Valette, “and if you will cough and make a movement
behind, showing some one is there, he will wait patiently for a time.
The longer this detention the more time I shall have had to get away.”
La Valette then went out into the great lodge, where half a dozen
officials lounged idly or were seated, watching the lady pass. The
gatekeeper only made the remark: “You are leaving earlier than usual,
Madame. It is a sad occasion.” He thought she had taken a last farewell
of her husband, for the execution was fixed for the following day. The
disguised La Valette counterfeited poignant grief extraordinarily well,
with handkerchief to eyes and heart-rending expressions of sorrow.
They reached the outer gate at length, where the last guardian sat,
keys in hand, one for the iron grating, the other for the wicket
beyond, and La Valette was soon outside but not yet free. The sedan
chair was there, but no chairmen, no servants. The fugitive got inside
under the sentry’s eyes, and shrunk back behind the curtains to avoid
observation, but still a prey to the keenest anxiety and ready for
any desperate act. Two minutes passed, and seemed a whole year. Then
a voice cried, “The fellow has disappeared, but I have got another
chairman,” and the sedan was now lifted from the ground and carried
across the street, to where a carriage was in waiting on the Quai des
Orfevrés. The transfer was quickly effected, the horses whipped up
and started at a rapid trot across the Saint Michel Bridge, and so by
the rue de la Harpe to the rue Vaugirard behind the Odéon. La Valette
began at last to have hope of liberty, which grew when he recognised
in the coachman a devoted friend, the Comte de Chasseuon, who spoke to
him encouragingly, saying there were pistols in the carriage and that
they must be used if required. As the carriage drove on, La Valette
exchanged his woman’s clothes for a groom’s suit, and when it stopped
he jumped out at the bidding of his friend, M. Baudus, who was to act
as his new master.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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