I comforted myself sometimes with the hope that my parents' advanced age and their virtues would save them, and that I only would perish; for I saw clearly from all the refusals I had received that I should be obliged to renounce entirely the happiness of joining them. This was for me the greatest possible sorrow, but each day brought others. I could never have endured my situation with fortitude had I not resigned myself entirely to the will of God. The charity which we were so frequently called upon to exercise helped to distract our minds. One day, for instance, I met a poor woman who arrived overcome with fatigue from her long, miserable journey, having slept by the way only in infected prisons. The jailer, in order to force her to go to her apartment, which was very high up, spoke to her in most abusive language, and even kicked her, to rouse her from the prostration which overcame her as she mounted the stairs. I begged this cruel citizen not to treat her as a beast of burden, but to put her in my charge. I had great trouble to gain this favour from him, but succeeded with the help of one of my companions in getting her away from the barbarian. I think she was Madame de Richelieu. Madame de Rochechouart, her mother, was a singular example of the well established fact that prison life cured several very great invalids. When she was arrested at Courteille she was spitting blood so constantly that it was thought she would never reach Paris. On reaching Plessis her health became much better, though she lived in a room where the plaster was still fresh, without fire, and exposed to every wind. I believe it was the strict diet forced upon us by the poor food which produced this happy effect. One ate only what was just necessary to sustain life. The mind was so agitated that the body felt the effects of the strain. I remember that one night I was so hungry that I got up to get some chocolate, wondering that a physical need could distract me from the sad thoughts which beset me when awake. One day I spoke to Madame de la Fayette on this subject, saying to her that I could not conceive how, occupied as we were constantly with thoughts of death, and having it continually before us, we could provide for the next day what was needful to preserve our lives. While we were in the refectory we were informed that a poor woman had thrown herself out of the only window without a grating in the whole house, and that she was dying in the courtyard; it was surely despair which had urged her to this act of folly. I ran to the spot where they had carried her, and found her crushed, and showing no signs of consciousness. The keeper was beside himself, fearing lest this accident should compromise him, and never thought of doing anything for the unfortunate creature. I implored him, as our surgeon had made his rounds and lived at a great distance, to send for one of the physicians who were imprisoned in the building used as a court.