In the mean while, the gaolers led Philip, who moved with difficulty in his heavy irons, across the first and second court, and opening a low door in the western tower displayed to his sight a flight of steps leading down to the lower dungeons. At this spot La Heuterie, who seemed superior in rank to his fellow-turnkey, lighted a torch that he had brought with him at his companion's lantern, and descending to the bottom of the steps, held it up on high to let Philip see his way down. The Woodman shuddered as he gazed at the deep gloomy chasm which presented itself but half seen by the glare of the torch, the light of which glancing upon the wall in different places, showed its green damp and ropy slime, without offering any definite limit to the dark and fearful vacuity. But he had no time to make any particular remark, for the second gaoler, who stood at his side, rudely forced him on; and descending the slippy stone steps, he found himself in a large long vault, paved with round stones, and filled with heavy subterranean air, which at first made the torch burn dim, and took away the Woodman's breath. As the light, however, spread slowly through the thick darkness, he could perceive three doors on either hand, which he conceived to give entrance to some of those under-ground dungeons, whose intrinsic horror, as well as the fearful uses to which they were often applied, had given a terrific fame to the name of the Bastille, and rendered it more dreaded than any other prison in France. During this time they had paused a moment, moving the torch slowly about, as if afraid that it would be extinguished by the damp, but when the flame began to rise again, La Heuterie desired his companion to bring the prisoner to number six, and proceeding to the extremity of the vault, they opened the farthest door on the left, which led into a low damp cell, cold, narrow, and unfurnished, the very abode of horror and despair. Into this they pushed the unfortunate Woodman, following themselves, to see, as they said, if there was any straw. "Have you brought some oil with you?" demanded La Heuterie, examining a rusty iron lamp that hung against the wall: "This is quite out." "No, indeed," replied Fouchard, "and we cannot get any to-night: but he does not want it till day. It is time for him to go to sleep." "No, no," rejoined the other, who seemed at least to have some human feeling; "do not leave the poor devil without light. Give him your lantern, man; you can fetch it to-morrow, when you come round to trim the lamps." The man grumbled, but did as La Heuterie bade him; and having fastened the lantern on the hook where the lamp hung, they went away, leaving Philip to meditate over his fate in solitude.