One day as I was sitting alone in my chamber some officers of our guard came in with Monsieur Lambert, the Commissioner of War. The dread of something frightful was the first thing that flashed across my mind; but I was mistaken in my fear. This Monsieur Lambert, to whom I had rendered services under the old régime, had expressed a desire to see the place and my little cell. I made no sign of recognition because of the fear I had always had since the Revolution of compromising those who wished me well. When the officers were going out he let them pass before him, and said to me that if I had need of his services and wished to send off any letters he would take charge of them, and would be delighted to do me any kindness. I cannot tell how touched I was by this proposition, which, however, I was unwilling to accept. During the Reign of Terror the slightest kindness offered to persons of our rank was so dangerous that I still feel grateful to him for his good will. Perdrix did not spoil us. Several of us asked him for a copy of our entry in the jail-book; this seemed a small favour, but we could not obtain it. The clerk of the commune of Chantilly came quite frequently to the château, in order to give certificates of residence. He showed a sort of interest in the prisoners. Whenever they were not harshly treated it was on account of the natural amiability of individuals. Monsieur Wallon, of Beauvais, having confidence in the clerk, commissioned him to procure some money for him; he accepted the commission graciously, and disappeared. I never should have imagined it necessary to have one's residence in a prison certified. It seemed to me that to make a list of those who were there would have been sufficient; but it turned out very well for me that I took the precaution I thought superfluous, as I was inscribed upon the list of _émigrés_ during my imprisonment. I was not pleased at the reception given a fat curate from Noyon who had apostatized, and had denounced and caused to be imprisoned a good many of our fellow-prisoners. He was hooted at from the head of any stairway he attempted to ascend; and the crowd pushed him back, and used syringes upon him. I was very sorry to see a man so lost to principle among us; but I should have preferred not to see any unfortunate being insulted. Any one is unfortunate who has lost his liberty; and those who are wicked are the most to be pitied under such circumstances. I was sorry also for those who, instead of thinking of more serious things, fed themselves with vain hopes concerning the future, and the possibility of shaking off their fetters.